


In the Land of Nightingales

by chichirichick



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28924701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chichirichick/pseuds/chichirichick
Summary: Southern Gothic AU for Soul Eater. Maka has been raised as a Yankee but unfortunate circumstances with her parents brings her down to the deep south, a place steeped in superstition and gossip. Her neighbors are nothing more than another beacon of Southern royalty but word in town says the Evans' are nothin' better than cursed. Are a string of unfortunate circumstances an age-old spell or just bad luck?  *Now with beautiful art additions by sahdah*
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans, Marie Mjolnir/Franken Stein
Comments: 134
Kudos: 44





	1. Headin' Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madamebongwater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madamebongwater/gifts), [SmolPocketChange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmolPocketChange/gifts), [sahdah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahdah/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going to be my baby - I've been working on it for a while and actually did an outline and betaing (special thanks to justpocketchange, alc, and madamebongwater). As a warning, I'm going to take this one slow because I really want it to be perfect. Please have patience and enjoy this new AU.

Maka should have known better than to let her eyes shift half-closed, to allow her mind to populate that grey area between sleep and waking anywhere other than a completely darkened room. The light filtering through the trees and the thin line of her lids made it easy to see the hazy shapes, the _ghosts_ as she tried not to think of them. They were always there, things that skulked in that twilight time, another relic that she firmly believed her mother had given her. It wasn't sanity that reigned there but the cross country trip and the uprooting had left her exhausted in more ways than one so holding onto realistic thought was beyond her.

Spindly fingers of willow trees hung to create mossy green bows that fractured the light, creating more shadows to play tricks on a mind that didn't very well have much of a handle on anything anymore. That's why when she saw him, it didn't necessarily come as a surprise - he wasn't anything more than any of the other figures that had come before him in this nightmare or dream limbo. His back rose tall but could probably be towering if there wasn't a definitive slump to his shoulders, an obviously purposeful fault in his posture. The hair shone white amongst the shade with a halo glow even though the sun was mostly refusing to leave the comfort of the clouds today.

 _Another ghost_ , her mind murmured absently.

As if that had come as a taunt, the colorless hair moved and a chiseled jaw started to peek over boney but broad shoulders. The journey of his chin was entirely lazy since the figure moved with painful effort. There were beads of sweat starting at the temples, a few straggling hairs plastered at the line while the rest spiked askew. When those eyes opened it was in time with a thundering beat of her heart, jolting her awake with a look that meant to stop the next pulsation. They were crimson, deep and shining like freshly spilled blood.

 _A demon_ , her now not so sleepy mind corrected.

Her eyes desperately searched the landscape over the dashboard, trying to grip reality.

"Sleep well, kiddo?" Spirit happily hummed as he strummed at the steering wheel.

Maka didn't offer an answer, just shooting her head over her shoulder. She expected emptiness or at least just a view of the lush greenery of this new place she was about to call home. Instead, the dream was still alive and well, now moving up the drive next to the one Spirit was turning into. Holding her breath, those eyes came again, and with them a smirk filled with sharp teeth.

 _He saw me_ , came the impossible answer as she flung back into the seat and forced her eyes to the house ahead of her.

Really, calling it a house was like referring to a missing limb as a minor inconvenience - it was more a sprawling estate with giant antebellum columns shaping a rotunda at the front that housed tall windows crowded by black shutters. As the car edged closer, the shocks slightly tested by the gravel driveway, Maka saw the chips at the beauty as that black pronounced the drab graying of the original white sides. Lines were no longer smooth as the screens sat slightly askew. She saw herself reflected there, flaking away, disregarded, and her eyes moved to her father to only reinforce the feeling.

"I thought you said Stein was taking care of the place," Maka muttered.

"It just needs a coat of paint," Spirit shrugged off the comment as he put the car in park and opened his door to launch off joyously onto the stones.

Maka let his door close with a jolting thud, trying to stay in the captured cold of the air conditioning as she watched her father's peppy step up to the monstrous mansion. "Mama," she implored to the empty cab, "Why? Why did you let this happen?" She answered that with a sigh before adding the muttering, "As if that helps, Maka. Get a grip. Get up. Hopefully…" but no faith blossomed, leaving her just to heave another breath before she exited the car.

Spirit had already disappeared into the door, leaving it ajar as if bugs didn't come in sparrow-sized replicas down here. The grand house should have stirred some kind of nostalgia in her, a fine connection to a family legacy built out of ancient wood, except college had supposedly transformed both of her parents, scraping all the residue of Southerness from their bones and instilling instead your standard Yankee stock, leaving a daughter who'd never walked through these hallowed halls that made being an Albarn synonymous with antebellum royalty. It wasn't as if Spirit had even introduced her to the grandparents that had lived in this house up until their death ten years prior, and with the constant web of secrets that her mother and father produced there was no clear indication _why_. _As if I would ever get any answers to my questions_ , came Maka's internal mutter on cue as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Inside was filled with more ghosts, heavy and fat furniture remaining dust-free because of moth-eaten sheets. The floorboards screamed under her feet, thankfully unsplintered but darkly stained wood crawling from room to room like a slick, glowing tar as the natural light filtered through the endless wall of windows in the sitting room. Sweat instantly formed on the back of her neck, the room stuffy but somehow still humid even with the hardly visible sun creeping in. She started moving to the windows, throwing them open one by one to let in air that barely broke the discomfort.

"Papa?" Maka called uselessly, sure he was lost somewhere in the expanse of this house. It wasn't as if he was entirely her motivation anyway, considering the double-digit-hour car ride and how much time he had spent trying to instill some urge to be in his company. That had obviously been a failure, so even with his name hanging in the air, Maka started towards the back of the house and another exit that would bring her out into a heat that at least had a moving breeze.

The backyard was less of a courtyard and more a grassy expanse that had one building on each side of the house, forming a lopsided C. One branch was only a tiny curl, a squat building sat blindingly white in the sun. _I guess that's what a fresh coat of paint does_ , Maka grimaced, turning her eyes from the brightness to settle on the house sitting the opposite. The history of it as a carriage house was lost, having been renovated years before into another living space that Marie and Stein took up along with that loudmouthed boy that she'd spent most of her childhood chasing - Blake. Since the quiet was only interrupted by the call of various insects, Maka could only assume Blake was off causing a ruckus elsewhere.

Against her better judgment, since she was sure Marie would be somewhere in the larger house, Maka moved for the garishly brilliant hovel. As she approached, the fine lettering next to the lacquered black door took shape. _Franken Stein_ , simple and without added moniker and for the first time in over five hundred miles, a true smile sprung to her lips. Like the truth Northerner she was, Maka threw open the door to the tiny office, ready to crow out an admirable hello when she was struck frozen by two sets of eyes staring back at her.

While Stein's dull green stayed steady, the deep, expansive scarlet orbs that she'd just settled on being a dream, popped wide. The ghost was standing there, his tan, lean chest shirtless as Stein prodded at it with a stethoscope. The eyes quickly recovered, turning half-lidded as something closer to a snear than a smile punctuated his lips.

"Ah, Maka, you've arrived." Stein stood and pulled the curtain, trapping the eyes and teeth behind it's drab, Pepto-pink.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Maka murmured, her brain and heart sending opposing messages to run and stay.

"We were just about finished," Stein added a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes not even glancing back at the sheet that rippled from the motion behind it. "How was the drive?"

The urge for small-talk was fluttering in her brain but her heart was thumping into her throat. _Behind that curtain is a demon. Red eyes, white hair, sharp teeth about to swallow me whole like some fairytale and-_ Maka forced that old trap shut on the thought, banishing it the way her mother used to teach her. _You're here. You're in the real world. Whatever they are, it's not for you._ "It was with Spirit, so, you know, utter torture," she sighed.

"I see you and your father are as close as ever," Stein's smile slid into sardonic.

"Never better," she punctuated with a roll of her eyes, having to force them on the tail end not to settle on the curtain. There was still no sound but the soft billowing as if a breeze had struck the other side.

Somewhere in the pause, Stein had reached for her, a tender finger touching her forearm to snap her back from thinking about the ghost in the room. "I'm sorry about your mother."

 _Just one ghost to another,_ her mind laughed ruefully. Only bile would come from her mouth if she opened it so Maka gave a terse nod instead, a strange automaticity in the motion coming from the frequency at which she'd heard that utterance in one way or another over the past few months.

Long and delicate fingers clutched into the end of the curtain before pulling it roughly to the side.

"I'm-" Maka started to apologize but those ruby eyes flicked away from her and settled on Stein.

"Am I good, Doc?" His voice was strangely ordinary, void of some crinkly demonic tone. It was closer to a baritone, lightened slightly by a hint of the local dialect.

"It's always the same, Soul," the glance Stein offered him was close to exasperated. "I'll call in the prescriptions."

He remained unphased by the diagnosis, just bowing his head ever so slightly. "See ya, Doc." While the gesture to Stein spoke of quiet respect, Soul was about as warm as any good enemy would be to Maka, giving her little more than a sideways glance and an almost inaudible mutter of "miss" before squeezing past her in the doorway. Her eyes only lingered over him long enough for him to shut the door in her face.

"Real Southern charm," Maka muttered before letting her curiosity get the better of her and pitching the question at Stein. "What's with the hair, the eyes?"

"Evan's family curse," Stein chuckled but while there was joy on his lips none seeped into his eyes. "I prefer to think of it as unique recessive genes but…" He only offered a shrug to finish the subject. "So, you're displeased with the house, you're displeased with your father - may I assume the university is at the bottom of your list as well?"

"I'll let you know after I go next week," she huffed out a sigh, letting her eyes hit the door again. "Did he _have_ to be like that?"

"You did bust into his physical," Stein murmured cooly but it was entirely lost.

Maka had already swung open the door, her feet catapulting back into the grass. She didn't have far to stomp as his relaxed gait had only brought him into the center of the square between the two houses. "Hey!" she snapped.

The man came to a slow, plodding stop, his feet settling only after a playful tilt of his heels.

"Listen, I'm sorry I barged in, but-"

"Apology accepted," he chipped away her words and muted her further by starting the crawl of his chin over his shoulder. As soon as she could see half of his lips, he bared those teeth again and Maka tried to chant _recessive genes_ in reply to their sharpness. He released a breath as if it was meant to be a laugh but his throat barely had the energy to expel it.

Maka broke from the spell, "But there's no need to be _rude_."

His eyes narrowed as the grin fell from his lips. "Stubborn, huh?"

"No, I just don't appreciate a door slammed in my face!"

"Gotcha," he added another chuckle before turning his head back to look across the field. "Have a nice day, miss." His feet started again, his shoulders taking that lazy slant as he ambled.

"My name's Maka!" she called after him.

His wrist flicked up, displaying apathetic fingers to wafting her yell away.

 _A demon_ , Maka's mind grumbled back again.

Again, as if he could hear each challenge from her mind, the footsteps stopped only to pivot easily so he could turn to face her. "Your last name."

"What?"

"Miss what?"

Her eyebrows crinkled. "Maka Albarn."

"Ms. Albarn." The nod that came after was terse, barely thoughtful as she started to walk again. "Soul Evans," he threw as an afterthought over his shoulder as he continued.

Maka watched him in silence, moving past the carriage house and off into the expanse behind. She waited until he became a shadow again, still trying to suss out how much of him was still part of the dream.


	2. Chance Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing one of my favorite OCs. I hope you love him just as much as I do. Also, since this is an experimental journey for this AU, I'd appreciate all feedback, constructive criticism included.

Just glancing at the sitting room had labeled it as a disaster - far too many antique pieces of furniture to attend to in a day and sitting on one in a sea of sheets brought a creeping sort of depression in her gut, so Maka was left wandering the house for a smaller project. She found it in the study, better described as a library with wall to wall mahogany shelves filled with tomes that screamed of other decades past. It was bare of furniture besides an antique desk that screamed of old men and plantation business. The only sitting area was a window seat, allowing for a pleasant amount of reading light which, honestly, was all Maka was searching for.

She curled into the sill, her eyes only scanning the vacant yard for a moment before intently eyeing the page as she opened to her bookmark. This was the world she wanted to live in: a suspending reality where women weathered men's indiscretions and karma came with easy consistency. She was just drifting off into those shadows when the slam of the door jolted her back.

"Oi, Maka!"

She pursed her lips to refuse the smile. "In here, Blake."

"Come on," he complained, drawing out the vowels as he came into view. Blake hadn't outgrown her, both of them standing head to head now just as they had in their childhood. Not much about him had changed, between the scraggly spikes of his blue hair and the constant resounding note of his voice, but years of the wild had left him stocky with muscle, honed as if he was a man of constant work. "First day in a new town and you've got your nose stuck in a book."

"Can't I get a rest?" Maka raised challenging eyebrows as he scoffed at her. "Anyway, I didn't sleep well last night. I kept hearing this bird…" In reply, she was sure she could hear it again, a faint trilling from somewhere out in the woods.

"Said like a true city girl," Blake grinned. "I'd say you'll get used to all the night sounds but you're awfully soft, aren't you?"

Maka offered a frown in reply.

"Anyway, come out on the swamp with me," Blake made it less of an offer and more of an order.

"The swamp?" Concern crinkled her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Gator huntin'," he crowed in return. "Promise it's not gonna be boring."

"Sounds…" Maka searched through her list of adjectives as she let a grim smile come to her lips. "Like I'm going to pass. I should be doing things around the house here anyway and-" A fuzzy bit of movement hit her periphery and Maka snapped her head back to the window. A boy, no older than five was wandering along the tree line. "Who's that?"

Blake edged towards the window, leaning into her without regard for personal space as he searched along her view. "That's Eggie or whatever."

"Wow, thank you _so_ much for the information," Maka sighed with a roll of her eyes.

"Nah, seriously," Blake sent a punishing knuckle into her shoulder for the sarcasm. "Little guy's name is Eggie or something. He's the little Evans."

"The white haired guy's little brother?" _Apparently not all of them have that awful problem of recessive genes_ , Maka grinned with some relief. The little head was covered in feathery black hair but from this distance, she couldn't see his eyes- or his teeth.

"White haired guy's _son_ ," Blake corrected as he finally put distance between the two of them. "He hangs around all day, so you'll see a lot of him."

"He doesn't go to school?" Maka's eyebrows wrinkled against the thought.

"Uh, bookworm, it's the last week of _summer_ ," Blake reminded her with a scoff. "But technically, kid doesn't go to school. With all the rumors about the family…" He let that trail off, squashing it with more important thoughts. "But, seriously, you're not comin' with me?"

"No thanks," Maka shook her head.

"You honestly don't know what you're missing," he sighed exasperatedly. "Suit yourself, I guess, but I swear, you'll be begging to come with me once you find out how little there is to do around here."

Maka let out a weak laugh, "Fine, rain-check then since I've _always_ wanted to know what it's like to hunt a gator."

"You know, sarcasm is Northern bullshit - it's not appreciated around here," Blake warned with a sneer before wafting an absent hand at her. "Oh, Marie wants you to come over tonight for dinner."

"Fine, see you then." Maka would have waved him off but there was no point, Blake already disappearing with stomping steps through the house. Her eyes turned back to the window, following the little black head as it moved along between the shadow and the light. _Should he really be out there by himself? And that man… is he even old enough to have a son that age? He barely looks older than me and that means he would have been a teenager when the boy was born._

Her book snapped shut and sat in her lap, her fingers worked nervously into the hardcover while she watched the haphazard wandering of the little boy. With a sigh, Maka gave in, leaving the window seat and starting towards the back of the house. _By the time I get out there, he'll be gone, right? Not a figment of my imagination but another reminder that I should mind my own business. Exactly. By the time I get out there…_ While her thoughts attempted to be reassuring they were in no way true, the child now crouched next to some shrubbery at the far end of the field, his head sweetly tilted to one side as he studied the ground.

Before she could preface her footsteps, the little head snapped to her, red eyes glowing that secured the link in her mind to the demon from the day before. "Who are you?" he had a cherubic little song of a voice, not at all accusing but suffused with an adorable curiosity.

"My name's Maka," she replied with an easy smile as she approached. As soon as she was close enough, she knelt down to his level, hating that feeling of being a towering shadow over someone else. "What's your name?"

"Your middle and last," he urged back as little red eyes narrowed.

"Oh," Maka felt the echo of yesterday swell that annoyance in her again, but she swallowed it, trying to blame it on cute inquisitiveness. "Maka Suzume Albarn."

"Suzume?" The boy played with the syllables, buzzing the z against his tongue.

"It's my grandmother's name," Maka offered. "She was Japanese, but she actually lived here when my mother was born."

"I'm Reginald Desjardins Evans." An adorable tuck of a bow followed.

"That's quite a name for a little boy," Maka laughed. "Do you have a nickname?"

"Uncle calls me Reggie," the boy offered with a hint of excitement.

 _Eggie, huh, Blake? What attention to detail you have…_ "May I call you Reggie?"

A hearty nod was the reply.

"Reggie," Maka smiled as she watched the joy blossom on his face. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

Reggie pondered over this for a moment before rolling his shoulders easily. "Papa's still in his room and I'm waiting for Uncle to finish running." This spurred a shock over the boy's features before he looked quickly at his wrist that housed an oversized men's watch. "Oh! It's time to meet him. Would you like to come with me? I'll introduce you!" It wasn't much of a request since that tiny hand was instantly in hers, pulling her along to her feet and down a path into the woods behind the house.

There was only a thin smattering of trees before it opened up to a wide, lazily lapping body of water. "Oh, a lake!" Maka gushed at the sight, but instantly squashed it, seeing the wash of dismay come over the boy's face as he seemed to finally notice it was there.

"I'm not supposed to play there."

 _For good reason._ Maka looked out across the expanse, the inky color of the water spelling out its depth.

"There he is!" Reggie was using his free hand to point excitedly down the lane that appeared at the western side of the lake from another line of hanging willows.

Maka watched Soul instantly freeze from his gait, his bare, sweat-soaked chest heaving with unsure breaths as his eyes flicked between her and the boy. His hand moved to the small of his back, pulling out the t-shirt he must have tucked into his shorts and quickly struggling through getting it over his head. It didn't do much as the white fabric stuck tightly to his skin and turned transparent with the moisture. _How often can a man go without a shirt?_ Maka resisted the urge to roll her eyes but had to be honest with herself: the view wouldn't be so bad if it didn't instantly come with the attitude.

"Reginald," came snapping from his mouth as soon as he was in hearing range.

Reggie was too saturated in joy to be phased by the demeanor, flourishing a hand in Maka's direction, "May I introduce Miss Maka Suzume Albarn."

"We've met," Soul slapped the excitement with his blank tone. "Ms. Albarn, once again you've found a way to interrupt my _private_ time."

"And I'd apologize again, but I've seen how that goes," Maka grumbled back. "But I couldn't let your son just wander around on his own- he can't be more than five and-"

"Nephew," Soul corrected with a sharp laugh. "My brother, Wesley is Reggie's father."

 _Thanks, Blake_ , Maka barely stopped herself from hissing under her breath.

"But you're not the first to mistake Wes and I. Twins ten years apart," Soul added an easy roll of his shoulders. "If you'll excuse us, Reggie has somewhere to be."

"No, I don't," Reggie started back at him and Maka felt his fingers tightening around hers. "And I want to play with Maka-"

"Ms. Albarn," Soul corrected with a snap, his eyes turning stony towards the little boy. "And I'm sure Ms. Albarn has her own business to attend to." He approached them and while fear started to rear in her heart as those eyes still embraced an icy coldness, she watched Soul's hand drift gently down to the boy's hair, ruffling it before planting on his shoulder. "Remember, you ask first, and I bet you didn't even tell Ms. Albarn what she was in for when you dragged her off."

A wave of guilt wrinkled Reggie's eyebrows as he looked to Maka. "I'm sorry, Ms. Albarn."

"It's alright," Maka cooed gently as she knelt again to come face to face with Reggie. "And next time, if you ask, I'm fairly sure the answer will be yes. I don't mind as long as I don't have homework to do."

A throaty snicker came from above and as Maka turned her eyes she found a devious smirk on Soul's face, those teeth coming out for a show again. "Still a schoolgirl, huh, Ms. Albarn?"

"I'm going to State," Maka corrected. "Papa teaches there now, and so does Stein."

Some of the life drained out of his lips, and Maka watched with confusion as his eyes went dull, somehow lifeless even in their scarlet hue. "Be careful who you meet there." As quickly as it had come, even more swiftly it disappeared as Soul's eyes dipped back to Reggie. "Say your peace to Ms. Albarn and then it's time to get goin'."

"Goodbye, Ms. Albarn," Reggie dutifully sang.

"Goodbye, Reggie," Maka offered back before letting her eyes flick to Soul. "Goodbye, Mr. Evans."

"Soul," he chuckled. "Just call me Soul."

"Then you call me Maka," she charged back.

A pleasant hum resounded from his chest but his head shook as if she'd performed some kind of social _faux pas_. "Ms. Albarn suits you just fine. Mr. Evans, well, that's better left for that bastard I call a father or maybe Wes on particular days."

"You're not supposed to use that word," Reggie chided as his hand slipped from Maka's.

"My apologies," he replied back without any hope of meaning it. "Let's go, Reggie. See ya, Ms. Albarn." Soul scooped up Reggie, tossing the boy over his shoulder to a shrill cheer of giggles. He bounced him along, Reggie waving to Maka as they started to recede from view.

She stood, walking in their direction to keep sight of them long enough to reach the lake again. Her eyes followed the path they were on, spying its culmination in another grandiose mansion. It was brilliantly white against the azure sky, a beautiful heavenly cloud that was floating on the horizon. It sat on the other side of the water, a strange foil to the one she knew sat behind her. _One well cared for, maintained, while the other…_ Maka let her eyes linger behind her and even though she couldn't see the tattered shutters, the flaking white paint, she could feel it there.

 _I wonder what it's like, living like them. Fine Southern gentleman in a fine house with a fine name to boot._ Maka heaved a sigh and forced that bookish romanticism from her mind. As the heat blared around her, her eyes finally came to the water, the cool surface calling to her. She crouched next to the bank, letting her fingertips skim the mirror surface. The tension broke, letting a ripple slink along the top as a strange buzz started underneath the pads of her fingers.

What had been silence, or just a low hum of insects and call of the breeze, suddenly filled her ears with a strum of the steady call of a bird. It had to be an echo, too cacophonous to be simply one singer stationed in a nearby tree and Maka felt it reverberate through her to match the beat of her heart. Her blood felt thick, her legs shaking until her knees met the soft shore. Her fingers dipped to the knuckles, the cool pulling her in just as much as the siren call of the bird above.

A swell of terror was fluttered in her chest as her hand refused all other orders but to sink. Her wrist was now swallowed whole, the water frigid as mid-winter yet the humidity still stuck to her skin. In between the avian twitters, a staticy whisper had started, a woman's voice broken by bubbles and pops. _Drowning_ , sprung to her mind as her forearm started to disappear and a violent shiver sprung up from her arm to her spine.

"Maka?" Air sucked into her mouth as she fell back on her rear. Her bewildered eyes climbed up to Marie with the baby balanced on her hip. "Sorry, did I surprise you?"

"No," Maka could barely let the breath out as a moan. "I mean, yes, um, but it's fine."

The skepticism saturated Marie's stare.

"I think I'm still just tired from yesterday," Maka murmured before letting her eyes dart back to the water. _It was nothing. I spaced out. I…_ but her heart still thundered in reply, now the only vibration in her ears as the swell of birds were suddenly missing.


	3. School Daze

Maka followed Stein like the dutiful duckling she was, practically settling under his wing as he walked her through campus. A part of her was embarrassed by the sudden lack of self-reliance, but between Spirit trying to persuade her to be his shadow for the day and the consistent lack of sleep from the country chitter, Maka had little patience for anything more than being nudged along by an at least respectfully quiet Stein. Technically, it was one of those tumultuous freshman orientation days, but since Maka was neither a freshman nor in much of a mood for orienting, she was left to follow Stein through the maze of science labs until they reached the one he called home.

"Kilik," Stein intoned blankly as he walked through the door.

"Ah, hey, Dr. Stein!" Rushing over was a man no older than Maka, a pleasant grin on his lips as warm brown eyes shone through squared frames. "What's up?"

"This is Maka," Stein waved an easy hand towards her. "I was hoping you could take some time out of your lab work today and show her around the campus."

"Sure," Kilik's grin continued to stretch amiably. "Kilik Rung." He offered a sturdy hand to her, clasping strongly as Maka offered her own.

Maka found it easy to mirror his smile. "Maka Albarn, and thanks in advance."

"Kilik is responsible enough," Stein murmured as he left the two of them to watch him begin skulking around the room at the other lab techs. Both chuckled as Stein continued to scare a few, goosebumps raising on a few necks as he breathed down them.

"So, high praise from Stein," Maka closed with another laugh.

"Yeah, hopefully he puts that in my letter of recommendation. So…" Kilik studied her for a moment, his fingers rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "Lemme guess, sister-in-law? You kinda look like his wife."

"I wish," Maka huffed out a sigh. "Goddaughter, technically, but I always considered him an uncle and my mom would…" Calling up that ghost tangled her tongue and Maka let the sound creep to a halt as her eyes trailed back towards Stein.

"Cool," Kilik instantly stuttered his voice back into life. "Well, I only have an hour left, so it'll have to be a quick tour. Sorry."

"No, anything is great," Maka forced that spirited pleasantness back into hers. "I just- give me an _honest_ tour. That's really all I want."

"Honest, huh?" Kilik didn't kill the chuckle off his lips. "OK, let's get a move on then. This way." He motioned her back towards the door and they set off back through the labyrinth. Kilik filled the boundless empty space of sterile white walls and floors with the wonderful cheer of his voice. "Solid suggestion, don't come down here unless you need to - most pre-meds are either creepy or bougie, neither too much fun to be around. What's your major?"

"Literature," the joy of it brought Maka's heart back. "I want to be an editor, but I'm taking a minor in education just in case."

"Then, yeah, avoid this building like the plague." He offered a final sweep at the drab edifice as they exited. "You're going to be over this way." Their feet tapped across the paved walkways towards a set of what looked more like plantation homes rather than the drab modern architecture that they left behind. "These two have lit and philosophy."

Maka let her eyes sweep over the fine columns before coming back to Kilik as he spun one of his short dreads between his fingers. "And where's the sociology buildings?"

"Ah, thinking about sociology? Heard we got a new professor this year for that, famous or something."

"Yeah," Maka let out a withering sigh, "Spirit Albarn."

"Oh," Kilik raised his eyebrows. "You're a faculty kid, too?"

"Unfortunately," Maka muttered back. "So think you can show me the best way to get to these buildings and avoid him at the same time?"

Kilik let out a rough laugh, "Sorry, shouldn't laugh, shitty parents are the pits."

"Tell me about it," Maka rolled her eyes.

"Kilik!" A bright, bubbly voice shot across the lawn behind them. Maka turned with Kilik to follow his eyes to a pair of blonds, one noticeably taller with long, straight hair. The other, petite and lively, was bouncing across the grass to them. "Kilik, do you have the notes for Dr. Naigus's class?"

"Sure, uh, but later? I'm kinda in the middle of something," Kilik waved a hand towards Maka. "This is Stein's niece, Maka."

"Stein has a niece?" the other girl perked as she joined the conversation. "You mean there's another him out there somewhere?"

"Well," Maka smiled meekly. "Technically, I'm his Goddaughter - he and my dad grew up together."

"This is Liz and Patty Thompson." Kilik cut in, motioning from the long hair to the short bob. "You might see Liz - she's a communications major, but Patty's kinda a jack of all trades, so, who knows."

"Yes, we're sisters," she waved between Patty and herself. "Is Kilik giving the world's worst tour or something?"

"Or something," Patty wiggled her eyebrows as Kilik rolled his.

"Are you about to invite yourselves along like usual?" Kilik stopped the revolution of his eyes to flick them between the sisters.

Liz produced a nonchalant glance at her watch. "I guess we have time to liven this up."

"Oh! Let's get ice cream," Patty cooed.

"Why did I think you'd want coffee like a regular adult?" Liz sighed. "Well, Maka, ice cream? Don't tell me you're lactose-intolerant."

"I can handle that just fine," Maka smiled. "And that sounds nice, please. No offense to your tour, Kilik."

"None taken," Kilik chuckled. "Honestly, ice cream just about beats anything in this heat." That statement settled true as Patty billowed the fabric of her t-shirt. To avoid mimicking, the group started to move, edging across the campus from the antiquated buildings to the new that slowly melted into the edge of town.

"So, you transferred?" Liz interrupted the drifting, mundane drabble of conversation between the four of them.

"Well, kind of had to," Maka muttered with a shrug. "My dad got the job here at the university and, well, college is a bit too much money without the faculty-kid break."

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Liz sighed.

"But who's your dad?" Patty edged in before they turned into the shop, the bell above the door giving a soft tinkle as they moved onto the linoleum.

"Spirit Albarn, he's a sociology professor." Maka used the ice cream case as an excuse to ignore anything more on the subject since having her father's name come more than once from her lips in a day was already overkill. She perused the flavors, trying to blame the furrow in her brow on the plethora of choices.

"Wait, Albarn?" Liz pressed in close, obscuring the ice cream supply to her left. "Like the _Albarn_ Albarns? _The Songbird Mansion_ Albarns?"

Maka's eyebrows continued to wrinkle, " _The Songbird Mansion_?"

"The house next to the Evans', right?"

The name flooded her with those red eyes again, a chill running down her spine that lived on the border of fear and something she couldn't entirely grasp. "I guess… in front of them. So the name of the house is _The Songbird Mansion_?"

"I mean, all of those ancient pillar plantations have one," Liz shrugged. "The Evans' house is _Shadows on Llyn y Fan Fach._ "

" _Llyn y Fan Fach_?" Maka attempted the garble of sounds.

"Original Evans were Welsh," Liz grinned.

"They're amateur know-it-alls," Kilik muttered under his breath as he took to Maka's other side.

Patty perched her chin on her sister's shoulder between her and Maka. "I like to think we're detectives."

"Conspiracy theorists," Kilik grunted.

"Historians?" Liz offered.

"So if I need any local information I should go to you two?" Maka raised a friendly eyebrow.

Well, yes, but…" While her shoulders rolled easily enough, Liz's lips took on a tight, forced smile. "Really, there's no secrets here. Once you whisper it in one ear, it'll spread like lice at a daycare."

"But there are _some_ secrets?" The laugh from Maka's mouth was supposed to be playful but the idea had caught the air in her throat.

"Sure," Patty chirped as Liz let her eyes wander to the display as if that held more interest for her than the answer that was coming. "But no matter what, nothing stays a secret forever."

That drew a cold needle into the flesh of her heart as the millions of them sat in the clouded web of her head.

"Ladies, I only have thirty minutes so it's time to choose your flavors, and remember, I will judge you based on your selection." Kilik's chuckle diffused through the ice, thawing Maka back into reality.

"Honestly, Kilik, your favorite is rum raisin. You have zero room to judge," Liz scoffed.

Maka couldn't stop the wrinkle of her nose.

"Don't gang up on me with them," Kilik nudged an elbow into hers.

"Sorry, I kind of have to," Maka laughed before looking up at the girl behind the counter. "Cookies and Cream, please."

"See, a sensible selection," Liz laughed. "Same for me, please."

"Me three!" Patty chimed.

"Outnumbered," Kilik grumbled. "Guess I'll follow suit. Same for me."

With four cups filled to the brim with ice-cold tooth decay, the group moved back out into the heat to let the perspiration spring between their fingers and the plastic containers. Playful arguments tittered between Kilik and the sisters, Maka following them with a warmly glowing interest, but offering no words of her own. It still crept in on her- the odd loneliness of being in the middle of connections, the way she'd often felt as a child after Blake disappeared to this steamy swamp.

"Shit, gotta get the twins," Kilik sighed as he glanced at his phone. "Uh, Maka, lemme walk you back to campus."

"It's OK," Liz waved him off, "Patty and I will get her back. Get going."

"And give the babies a hug for me!" Patty cried as Kilik nodded his goodbyes with hands full of their trash.

As if to prove Liz's point, Maka turned her head and whispered, "Twins?"

"Niece and nephew. Keahi and Iolana," and while Patty's voice started on a high note a sigh drifted right after. "Kilik takes care of them with Nana Rung."

"See, Maka, you're falling right into the town's trap," Liz let out a sing-song call as her chin rested in her palm. "Next you ask-"

"What happened to Kilik's brother or sister?" Patty finished with feigned interest.

"Sister," Liz answered mournfully. "Chi, super sweet, definitely a mom from day one, especially with a hot-headed little brother like Kilik." Her eyes drifted down to the table.

"Then I ask, what happened to her?" Maka added softly.

Liz smiled bitterly, "Murdered. Just a few months after the twins were born. Then again, didn't get much attention because, well, who gives a shit about someone who doesn't live in one of those houses with names."

Maka didn't gape, her lips just pressing firmly on the bitterness.

"I think that's enough history for today!" Patty flitted through the gloom, leaning towards Maka with an easy smile.

She mimicked only a shadow of the joy on Patty's face, especially as her eyes fixed on Liz again. "Actually, could I ask you one more thing?"

Liz's only reply was a roll of her shoulders.

The urge spun in her stomach before the words graced her lips. "You mentioned the Evans'... Stein joked about a curse and I get it, the red eyes, the white hair- well, except for Reggie-"

"Wait, you've seen them?" Liz's hand and voice flew up as the eyes of both girls across from Maka popped wide. "Talked to them?"

Maka's curiosity drowned out their shock. "I met Reggie and Soul- is his name _actually_ Soul?"

"Solomon," Patty wrinkled her nose.

"So you can see why he changed it," Liz managed a short, breathy laugh before incredulous eyes hit Maka. "But _met_ \- as in _spoke to_?"

"They're certainly not mute."

"OK, _dish_ ," Liz urged as both sisters leaned forward.

"He's rude," Maka huffed, "Soul that is, but Reggie's a sweet little boy. All manners while his uncle…" She rolled her eyes, hearing that particular version of _Ms. Albarn_ ringing in her ears.

"It would take more than two words strung together to be rude." Patty's eyes were lighting up as she dipped her shoulder into Maka's. "Which means Soul Evans said full sentences to you?"

"On two occasions, yes," Maka tried to laugh it off but for some reason, a blush was stealing away at her cheeks. "Like I said, rude, but not stupid. He could construct a few sentences. Mostly just to tease me."

Liz was shaking her head, each movement starting to wear a strange groove in Maka's heart. "We must be talking about two different Souls- more than one sentence to a stranger is unheard of."

A crinkle started in Maka's brow as her mind raced. _She's talking like he's incapable of it, but he seemed completely fine- maybe terse, but normal. Humorous even though I wouldn't dare admit it to his face - he'd be way too smug._

"She's thinking _way too much_ ," Patty whispered to her sister.

"Noted," Liz chimed back before tapping the table. "Earth to Maka- let's get you back to campus. Looks like you have just about enough on your mind."


	4. Walkin' After Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're afraid of birds, don't read this chapter.

Maka watched the bird on the sill, tiny feet hopping to no particular beat in the pearlescent brightness of the moonlight. That brilliant orb ate up the sky, giving her a complete view of the field behind the house and its emptiness. The bird's call brought her eyes back to it and, as it uttered another trill, its beak tapped into the window.

"I've got nothing for you," Maka murmured to it and the black eyes seemed to blink back with wonder.

A hauntingly beautiful set of notes drifted into the night. Maka's fingers moved on their own accord, firmly clenching into the frame to slide up the pane of glass. The beady little eyes watched her, prancing a bit closer to enter into the room with a natural sort of freedom. It sang again to her.

"You must be someone's pet, huh?" Maka tentatively reached out, her finger wobbling just before the brown breast in front of her. "I'm going crazy- talking to a bird." Her hand jutted back but the avian friend followed, sailing from the window to her desk with another cry that filled the vacancy of the house. "Great, Maka, let a wild animal in. This is-"

The little thing sang again as it fluttered down to the floor, skipping across the dark wood to position itself at her feet. There wasn't a moment for a blink before a second call sprang from the sill, bringing Maka's eyes to find another chestnut bird sitting there, staring with dark eyes. Her hand reached for the window to scare the creature back into the twilight but another cacophonous cry brought her eyes to the floor, now three onyx glares on her. Her sheets rustled and ripped, more forked feet appearing as tiny avian bodies peppered her bedspread.

She jumped, pulling herself into the corner of the mattress against the wall only to shoo away more wild wings, sending them into the air and filling the room. There was no longer a window to the night, just a sea of beaked faces that opened to spill a symphony that shook her enough to set her heart offbeat. While terror threatened in the back of her mind, a horrible image of eyes sundered from her face by those sharp maws, something in their call grabbed onto her, leaching into her skin and winding tightly into every cell. This was a voice she knew, a chorus she needed, but the frantic beating of feathers thundered the rest away.

With a clattering pull of breath, Maka sat up in bed to only the soft stir of crickets outside her window. Each gulp of air brought her closer to reality, dimly aware that she was covered in sweat and stuck to sheets that no longer welcomed her. She kicked them off before sliding her feet over the edge. It was then that she saw the dirt between her toes, the flecks of grass and other detritus stuck along her heels. A swell of wild despair hit her as those same old words whispered, _Maybe you are just like your mother._


	5. A Line in the Sand

Maka's mother had drifted through her thoughts all morning, draining her of any energy that had come from the thin sleep before and after the nightmare that was too close to reality for comfort. She'd washed the stains from her feet but there was no cleaning them off her heart, so when Marie had stopped by earlier that morning, simply part of the every Saturday occurrence of the older woman needing a moment to herself, there hadn't been a parting of ways but instead a settling in. Some soothing had come from this, the very aura of Marie a balm that often healed over Maka's wounds, but that song still crept in the back of her mind.

Marie was trying to cover it, her voice drifting in from the kitchen as Maka laid out on the floor next to Shelley. A steady stream of babbles came from the infant's mouth as Maka smiled softly, only interjecting when Shelley's silence called for it.

The singing broke and a tentative call came instead, "Maka?"

She sat up slowly, as she reached for the baby. "What is it, Marie?"

"I think you have a visitor."

Maka stood, swinging Shelley into her arms with a hoot of glee. "Let's see who's here. Maybe Dada?" she offered playfully, getting another coo from her charge. Hesitation was nowhere as Maka slipped from the living room into the hallway leading to the kitchen. Her smile only widened as she heard the sing-song voice again.

"My name is Reginald Desjardins Evans."

"Hello, Reggie," Maka cut in quickly as she rushed into the kitchen.

"Hello, Ms. Albarn! I was saying hello to your guest." Reggie motioned towards a very pleased looking Marie leaning against the sink.

"Well, don't let me interrupt!" Maka sent a knowing grin Marie's way before whispering, "You need to tell him your full name."

"Ah, Marie Mjolnir Stein. It's a pleasure to meet you finally, Reginald." Marie offered a hand and Reggie took it, shaking with meaningful vigor.

"Well, Uncle used to tell me-" Reggie seemed to bite into his tongue, flicking a guilty look between the two women. "I'm actually not allowed at your house, I don't think, but I wanted to see you, Ms. Albarn."

Marie's lips pursed for only a moment before she slid closer to Maka, already accepting Shelley's grabbing hands. "Let me take the baby and you can see to Reggie."

"Um, are you sure? I told you I'd watch her." Even with the argument, the little body was being shifted out of her arms and Marie leaned towards Maka's ear.

"Take a look at that little face," she murmured sweetly, that warm ray of motherly love always burning through these kinds of whispers from her. "He needs you- just you, I think."

Maka turned soft eye's Reggie's way just in time to see him fidget with one of the handles on the cabinets. There was a worried line starting on his brow and Maka could see him chewing over more words that he probably bit back before. "Reggie, will you take me for a walk?"

"You have the time?" The joy there was fragile, ready to live or die at her answer.

"Of course." Maka held out a hand as she moved towards him, finding tiny fingers eagerly catching hers as they pulled her back out into the summer sun. She caught Marie one more time from the window, an easy smile on her lips that seemed to spell out knowing too much- though what more was happening other than taking a fine walk with a sweet young man on a summer day was beyond Maka. "Reggie, was there a particular reason you wanted to see me?"

He grinned bashfully as he shook his head.

Maka let him lead for a few more steps, watching as he kicked up the grass with his sneakers as they eased through the field between the three houses. "Did your Uncle tell you you're not allowed at my house?"

His eyebrows worked for a moment before he gave a sharp nod.

She stood at an impasse, sure that the terse nature of Reggie's answers thus far was more to do with that stubborn man and less to do with this fragile little boy in front of her. "Reggie…"

He looked up at her expectantly, his hand squeezing in hers like a tiny plea.

"Will you take me somewhere you like to go? Somewhere special?"

"Special?" Again, a thin veil of excitement came over his eyes, a soft twinkle that tempted Maka into smiling so that it would instantly echo across his cheeks. "I… I have a secret spot."

"Do you?" The gush there was genuine, fed by the life that pulsed from Reggie's hand to hers. "Is it OK to take me there?"

Reggie was pulling her vigorously now, treading through the undergrowth to the path by the lake. "I want you to see it! Oh, Ms. Albarn, this was the _best_ idea." A sigh of relief hit her lips as Reggie veered her away from the edge of the lake, putting his little body between her and the water's seemingly endless depth. Their feet were following the path she'd seen Soul stomp on more than one occasion and the pit of her stomach swelled in an unwelcome roll. _I wonder if he knows- and I wonder if he'll scold you, Reggie. I hope not. Somehow, he's so gentle with you but at the same time…_

"Duck," Reggie ordered just in time to pull her through some low hanging willow branches.

A shiver ran down her back as she leaned to join Reggie under the mossy canopy. In the absence of the sun, a nice coolness had settled, entirely welcome after the humid walk. Reggie squeezed into the body of the tree, perched like a tiny owl comfortably in the crevice. "Is that your spot?" Maka giggled.

"It echos," Reggie shouted, letting the reverberating sound prove his point.

"Perfect reason," Maka nodded assuredly as she sat across from him. "Who else comes here with you?"

Reggie didn't even take a breath to ponder this, immediately spewing the words with dull irritation, "Uncle only comes here to _find_ me. Papa's busy. Granmama hates it- 'it's so _dirty'_ , she says. Just you so far."

"What about your friends?" Maka pressed back as she scooted closer to the opening, watching as Reggie sent searching eyes into the tree above him.

"I don't have any." Reggie's stare refused to fall, focused on a point in the darkness above him. "Maybe Uncle. I wish he'd…" A slow sigh leaked out as his shoulders fell.

Maka's hands slid into the divide, pressing into the dirt to keep from grabbing him and bringing him out of his hiding spot. "Is he mean to you?"

"No!" he urged back, head shaking obstinately. "But… I guess it's not _his_ secret, so…" it was the tiniest of murmurs from his lips. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"He used to play," it came out more of a plea, begging for Maka's fixing. "He used to talk more, too, but now… he gets sick a lot and that means he stays in bed." A tiny groan came from his throat before he murmured, "I'm sorry, I think that was a secret. He wouldn't like that I told you."

"It's OK." Maka bridged the gap, her fingers touching gently to his hand. "So, your uncle can't play with you, and you don't have friends, so you get sad. That's understandable. Do you want friends?"

"Uncle says I can't." Reggie's answer came with such automaticity and surety that Maka felt her heart crumble in her chest. "But you could be my friend, right, Ms. Albarn?"

She tried to force the sigh not to be forlorn, not to burn away as it trembled up her throat. "I definitely _am_ , Reggie- I'm just scared I can't promise to spend as much time with you. I'm at school a lot… but when I take care of the baby, Shelley, you could definitely come along."

"Is that your baby, Ms. Albarn?" His little eyes went wide.

"No," Maka laughed. "That's Marie's- Mrs. Stein's daughter. Actually, do you have to call all ladies by their last name?"

"Well…" This was certainly ponderable, clear by the wrinkle in between his eyebrows. "Papa says you always start calling a lady by her full name. It's only proper. If Uncle calls a lady by her name it's usually their first names, except for you. He said you have to be Ms. Albarn."

Maka mirrored his look, severity flattening her brows right back at him. "And I'm going to guess the _why_ is a secret."

A hiccup of a laugh came from Reggie's throat, "That's exactly what Uncle said. You almost sounded just like him!"

 _He's impossible,_ Maka almost grumbled except the voice she was hearing in her head was now ripping through the glen behind her.

"Reggie?" The grating call started. "Reggie, if you're in that tree again, Granmama is gonna-" A swatting hand cleared away the low hanging branches to shine light on the pair, leaving a halo of sunlight around Soul's shocked face. "Ms. Albarn."

"Hello, Soul," Maka smiled tightly. "Sorry to make you look for us. I asked Reggie to take me for a walk."

Anything on his tongue derailed as he sent questioning eyes towards Reggie.

"I was only doing as Ms. Albarn asked," Reggie chimed, still perched perfectly in his hideaway.

"Well," fell stiffly from his mouth.

"Well?" Maka offered quickly back.

His eyes darted again, from Reggie to those questioning green orbs. "I'm sorry to disturb," Soul brought his glare back to Reggie, "but you know quite well, Reggie, that it's time to see your other grandparents."

"No," Reggie whined. "I told you, I don't-"

"Reggie." While Maka expected a snap it was a soft murmur as Soul bent into their haven. He was instantly kneeling next to her, his hands creeping in to grasp Reggie around the waist to ease him out of his pocket. "Remember what I told you- they miss your mama." He risked a momentary glance at Maka, his lips pursing before he leaned his whisper closer to Reggie's ear. "I know they're no fun, not like Ms. Albarn, but you're all they have left of your mama. You have to see them and then…" he drifted off into a sigh.

"Ice cream?" Reggie offered.

"Ice cream," he murmured back in defeat. "But now you have to wash up. Granmama will absolutely _kill_ you if you show up-"

"I'll go!" Reggie barely gave him a second glance before shooting out of Soul's arms and back out into the sunlight behind the bows. Soul looked after him before turning empty eyes back to Maka. "He showed you his secret place?"

"I may have asked him to, but…" Maka shrugged. She watched the absence of anything on his face, the blank stare that spelled something closer to disinterest than study.

Soul pushed to his feet, his head practically braining into a branch. His frustration sprouted into view suddenly as a hand swatted at the leaves. "Ms. Albarn," he spat as his fingers ripped into the bract.

Her eyebrows furrowed even though her mind was nowhere near his outburst, "Why do you insist on calling me that? You know my name."

"Your name _is_ Ms. Albarn," he muttered back before he sighed into the leaves.

"And you make Reggie do it," she accused.

It was like a slap across the face, his head snapping up as a pink flush started to creep up his cheeks. "I don't _make_ Reggie do a thing. There's rules, Ms. Albarn- things you don't- _couldn't_ understand."

Maka sucked in a deep breath, watching the way his shoulders seemed to bristle for the fight. "Make me understand," came evenly with an ease that drained him of color.

One foot dug into the dirt as he dropped his eyes from hers. "Honestly, Ms. Albarn, just-" His hands slammed into his pockets as a rough breath left his throat. "Leave him be." Those red eyes ticked up from the earth, hitting her as her heart rattled against her ribs.

"That's-" Maka started but the fog that came over the glare in front of her froze the words in her throat.

"Don't come near him again." He shuffled for just one more breath before pressing back through the leaves, ignoring the way the branches raked at his face and arms for the sake of swiftness. Maka followed his opening, blinking into the sun to watch his back slow and stop, his feet stomping in place. His shoulders curled, making his tall form crumble in front of her. The turn was immediate, a silent but deadly storm raging across the features of his face.

Arguments sat on her tongue, rage ready to throw at him but that stare leaving her utterly impotent. Soul was waiting for the fight, watching it make her mouth tremble until nothing blossomed from the pink cupid's bow that only curled into a frown.

"Goodbye, Ms. Albarn." Soul tried to fill all those words with the finality they deserved.


	6. What's in a Name

"Hey!"

Maka surfaced from her pile of books and the blur of pages to meet an unfamiliar face that would have been cherubic if it weren't for the near sneer.

The girl flicked her auburn hair before continuing, "Dr. Stein's niece- Albarn, right? I work in his lab."

"Maka," she offered with a quick slip of a smile. "I'm sorry, did he need me?"

"No," she corrected quickly as she waved a dismissive hand. "But you're an Albarn? _Songbird Mansion_? Next to the Evans's?"

"I guess…" Maka narrowed her eyes. "And you're…?"

"Clara Delacroix, from the _Belle Meade_ Delacroix's." The girl shook her head somberly. "I suppose being raised up north, though, has kept you from the right company. Dr. Stein led you astray the other morning- letting Kilik _Rung_ show you around." That last name came as a curse from her mouth. "And then I saw you with those Thompson sisters… it's unfortunate- a complete crime really, that you haven't been properly introduced the way you should have. I know your father's been so far removed from society since he married your mother but _honestly_ , my daddy- that's Philip Delacroix- he and your father used to be such good friends that I just thought I _had_ to save you from wasting your time."

Maka pressed her palm into her cheek as she leaned into her elbow. "Let me guess, the Rungs and the Thompsons-"

"Well, let's just say that you should keep yourself from falling towards your mother's side. No reason to be a Rossignol when you could be an Albarn."

"A Rossignol?" Maka attempted it with the same southern flair that the girl had but it felt thick on her tongue.

"See, you get what I mean," Clara offered an amused laugh. "Better to pretend you know nothing at all of that, right?" A wink followed and Maka felt the definitive throb of a headache starting at the idea of continuing to uphold this conversation.

Maka's eyes drifted over the designer sweater before veering towards the door, suddenly wishing for the freedom of the world beyond it. _Rossignol- I wonder if that's a term or could that be mom's maiden name? I don't think I ever-_

"That being said," Clara chirped back into Maka's thoughts. "The big houses all belong to the same sorority- you know, birds of a feather! Which means that you should come by, start the pledging process, and-"

"No, thank you." Maka shut her book with the same resounding snap of her words as she started a rushed arranging of her things in her bag.

Clara's dull, entirely wonder-filled blinking was lost on Maka who was now standing from her seat. "Excuse me?"

"Thank you for thinking of me," her voice was anything but grateful, instead infused with the insipidity of watching paint dry, "but it isn't necessary. My name, Albarn or otherwise, means nothing to me." A grim grin appeared on her lips just as the lie left it. _Maybe not, but I suppose in the way you mean it, Clara, then that's close enough._

"Bold words!"

Both girls jumped but only Maka breathed a sigh of relief, beaming at the face that came with the voice. "Hey, Kilik."

"Maka, Clara." Kilik offered a nod in each direction before settling on Maka. "Hey, the Thompsons were wondering if you wanted to see the range."

"The range?" Maka raised an eyebrow before heaving her bag onto her shoulder. Before Kilik could speak she motioned a finger at him before turning her attention back to Clara. "Sorry, Clara, I've got to get going- thanks for the _introduction to society._ " That finger hooked into Kilik's shirt, pulling him along for the swift exit that Maka wanted to make on the tail-end of Clara's huff. She barely slipped past whatever remark Clara had for her, dragging Kilik along. "Sorry," Maka threw over her shoulder at him. "You have no idea how relieved I am that you showed up."

"And see, I thought I was going to just get a repeat of the Clara face." Kilik replicated it to a T, the absolutely vapid annoyance at the idea that someone so below her would bother to open her mouth.

"Oh, that's good," Maka laughed before nudging him a step forward as she opened the door for him. "Can you believe she was trying to tell me I was an _Albarn_ -"

"Technically, you are," Kilik replied, not sharing Maka's amusement. "I get it- you didn't grow up like this but it's serious business here, Maka. Talking to me, to Liz and Patty- people look down on that."

"Yeah, like the Delacriox's and the Evans's," Maka huffed.

"Well…" Kilik's mouth screwed into a frown as he motioned her towards a path between the library and the faculty building. "I mean, Soul's a different case altogether."

"I don't think so," Maka answered sharply. "I'm apparently not good enough to be anywhere close to his nephew."

"Oh," Kilik's eyebrows raised as a hand settled to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck. "He say that exactly?"

"Well, no, but-" Maka started to compile the fit on her tongue, the rage she'd built up as she reviewed that moment in her mind over and over the night before.

Kilik started to chuckle, eyes twinkling with delight, "But I bet he sure put his foot in his mouth, huh?"

Maka's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You know him?"

"Uh, yeah," Kilik shrugged. "My sister and his sister-in-law were friends so I kind of became his by default because Chi couldn't keep her nose out of it. He still technically comes to the house once a month."

"So he didn't choose to be your friend." Maka found some huffing pleasure in at least the ounce of righteousness that gave her.

"Oh, no, he definitely _did,_ " Kilik corrected. "Soul doesn't do anything without a lot of thought and heaps of personal opinion. If he didn't want me as a friend, he'd have let me know. Another thing- Soul's a guard dog. Used to be that way about his sister-in-law and when Reggie was born, well…" He slowed to a stop, giving her a sad slip of a smile. "Look, I can guess Liz told you about Chi."

Maka turned, letting her teeth worry into her lip for a moment, "Kilik-"

"Nah, it's alright," Kilik flicked his fingers at her. "Since Liz probably told it better than Clara or any of the other societal girls would have, except that's not the point. The shit that happened with Chi that left me and Nana with the twins sucked- and damn is that ever an understatement- but we had each other. We did this together and those kids are doing just fine. But Soul… he's the only thing that Reggie has."

A flutter of panic settled in her gut as the anger slipped away from her. "But his mother and his brother-"

"Were useless," Kilik spat back. "Soul's mom Lenora was busy with the social backlash and Wes… I like Wes; he's a good guy, except losing his wife and dealing with the investigation left him kinda coming up empty. I had someone to split midnight feedings with, handle teething, and take care of earaches, but Soul's been Reggie's entire world since he was a baby and vice versa. So getting anywhere near Reggie? Of course he's gonna bare his teeth at you, Maka. Reggie's lost a lot and Soul wants to protect whatever he has left."

 _Oh, damn it, of course you barreled through, Maka. You rushed in like you always do- like your split second thoughts were the only reality._ Maka bit back an irritated groan, instead fixing a deeper frown in Kilik's direction.

"So maybe he's not the only one who put their foot in their mouth?" Kilik let out an amiable laugh. "Trust me, Soul gets over it. Doesn't hold a grudge. I mean, if you two are going to be neighbors, you're going to have to get along, right?"

Maka let out a withering sigh, "I don't know… it's the south, aren't you supposed to have feuds or whatever?" With all his grinning, Maka had a moment to catch up, her mind suddenly settling beyond just the thoughts of Soul Evans. "You said investigation? Was Wes part of a crime?"

Kilik blinked, wide-eyed. "Thought that'd be the first thing the Thompson sisters spilled. Biggest news in the town- the Evans curse. Well, unless you're Clara and the other debutantes. They'll tell you it's all superstition, but after what happened to Vivienne…"

"That's Wes's wife? Vivienne?"

Without skipping a beat and with the casual air of reciting a shopping list, Kilik replied, "Yeah, everybody knows Wes killed her."


	7. Around the Dinner Table

Soul rolled the wine in the globe of his glass, concentrating on the crimson liquid rather than the eyes of the same color trying to bore into him from the opposite side of the table. He was ignoring the fidgeting and the hands that glided across the tablecloth chasing crumbs. "Uncle-"

"Not at the dinner table," Soul cut off with a grumble. He snuck a look at Lenora, watching her tease a string bean with her fork. "Where's Dad tonight?"

"Oh, out on business," Lenora answered with little consequence as she rested her fork with a soft clink. "Is there something you needed him for?"

Soul only offered a gentle roll of his shoulders in reply.

"Reginald, stop squirming." Lenora's first warnings always came as a chime, but Soul waited for the next to freeze into rigid icicles.

"But Granmama, Uncle-"

"Reggie." Soul's eyes finally snapped to the little ones that had been wailing for his attention. "I said, _not at the dinner table._ "

A wave of defiance pulled Reggie's lips into a frown and pressed wrinkles between his eyebrows. "Granmama, Uncle was _rude_ today to the new neighbors."

Soul let out a groaning sigh. "Mama-" he started, feeling the childish impotence of it.

"Reginald," Lenora completely bypassed Soul, deep chestnut eyes focused on her grandson. "By the new neighbors, you mean the Albarns, darling?"

"Yes, Ms. Albarn," Reggie hastily corrected.

"That's right, that _thing_ had a daughter, didn't she," Lenora spat under her breath. "Reginald, Solomon was in the right."

The hint of praise made Soul's guts melt into his shoes.

Reggie's eyes popped wide. "But, Granmama, you said-"

"Firstly," Lenora's tone was now drifting into the icy exhaust that Soul found grating, "while the Albarns _might_ have _been_ a great family, they are far from it now, Reginald, so there's no point in associating ourselves with them. Secondly, that _girl_ is barely an Albarn as it is. Rossignol blood, snake-charmers and witches, that's her stock so-"

"Mama," Soul snapped. "Don't fill his head-"

"I'm sorry, Solomon, but I did not _ask_ for your opinion," Lenora hissed back.

Soul was too busy looking at the crumbling faith on his nephew's face to even catch the fury on his mother's. "Reggie, go to your room."

"Uncle-" Reggie started and stopped, watching the gentle way that Soul nodded at him.

"Don't you-" Lenora began but saved her breath as Reggie slid from his seat and disappeared into the hallway. Her head tilted back towards Soul, a slow, antagonizing blink passing before she started again. "And who made you his father?"

His fingers dug into the tablecloth before he brought the fabric into a tight fist. "Well, when you or Wes are up for the task, let me know." Soul had become so well-versed with Lenora's replies that he'd trained his breath to be quick enough to beat them. He sucked in one quickly before adding the next round of acid-soaked words, "And don't fill his head with that nonsense, Mama. We've got enough stories as it is and the last thing he needs nightmares about is Ms. Albarn as a witch."

"Who's to say she's not?" Lenora shrugged as her prim grim did everything to make Soul's blood boil. "And what worry is it of yours, anyway? Wasn't Reginald just tattling that you were unkind as it was? I assume you don't like her."

"I don't know her," Soul shot back and he felt a trickle of shame with the words. _I don't. I don't know a thing other than what I overheard in Stein's office and… that sounded more sad than anything._

"And there's no reason to," Lenora shook her head knowingly. "Now, finish your dinner. And where is your brother anyway? Honestly, half of this house is made of ghosts-"

Soul launched to his feet, barely resisting the urge to rip his hands back and send the contents of dinner clattering to the floor. Instead, he pounded his fists for good measure, just enough to make his knuckles ache and Lenora jerk to attention before he followed Reggie's trail. Stomping up the stairs didn't fulfill the uncomfortable need for chaos and neither did ripping Reggie's door practically off the hinges. It wasn't until he found the little boy curled in bed, blankets pulled protectively over his head as they rattled with his sobs, that Soul lost all of his nerve. "Reggie…"

"Go away," Reggie shrieked under the blanket. "You're wrong! Granmama is wrong!"

"Reggie, come on…" Soul leaned down, trying to get a handle on the sheet so he could pull it away but the body underneath convulsed, leaving his hand only to waver.

"No," came the anguished cry. "I like Ms. Albarn! I want to see Ms. Albarn!"

 _You don't know her!_ He wanted to blare back but his jaw clamped tightly with rage. He turned, doors slamming as the fury came flying back as easily as it had left. Latching the lock to his room was necessary since as soon as it clicked, he let out a feral bellow as he raked the contents of his desk to the floor. _I'm trying to protect you!_ The scream sat on his tongue uselessly. _You don't know her, you can't trust her, and you can't let anyone in! We can't let anyone in because who the fuck knows what will happen!_

His mind instantly answered with the picture of glassy eyes filled with lake water, sending him bending over the side of the desk just swiftly enough to catch the bile that always accompanied that memory in the wastebasket. He heaved a few times, dinner gone in a flash as the vision continued to pulsate behind his lids. _Oh, fuck- oh, fuck- oh, fuck, make it stop._ The wordless prayer trembled down along with the spittle.

"Soul?" Wes's voice was gentle but still enough to resonate through the wood.

"Go the fuck away," his voice cracked, shaking with the barely-there breaths he was taking.

"Soul, open the door, please."

The fingers brought to his face jittered until they met skin, clearing the rest of the spit from his chin before settling back uselessly at his side. No knock came, nor any other sound, but Soul knew what was still waiting for him on the other side of that door as the weight of it sat on his chest. "Just fuck off, Wes," twittered up from his throat, his voice still jagged and raspy.

"Open the door, Soul."

Aching, slow steps brought him back, while his fingers reached for the lock, settling on it. "Why?" It wasn't a word he used often, not in that broken, pleading sort of way and it killed him to even have it uttered.

"I just want to see your face, that's all." The amiability there was sickening as if the reverberating crashing through the halls hadn't brought Wes this far.

"Then what?" he muttered.

"I'll go see my son- as I'm very sure this conversation will end with you scolding me to do as much."

The latch slowly ground in its housing and then Soul's hand fell to the knob, turning it. He slid his foot to the back of the door, allowing just a few inches of a crack to open. "See my face?"

Wes didn't register the question, instead sighing before adding his own, "Was it the medicine or the memory?"

"Does it matter?" Soul muttered as he let his forehead clunk uselessly against the door. "None of it fucking matters, Wes. You saw my face. Go get Reggie to stop cryin'." Wes tried to snake a hand through the door but Soul tilted it closed enough that the movement stopped. "Like I said, go see to Reggie."

Another slow breath left Wes but he didn't turn. "What has him upset?"

Soul sucked his teeth before grumbling under his breath, "He's in _love_ with the neighbor girl. Albarn. Won't stop talking about her, wants to see her, and I told him _no_."

Wes's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, "You told him _no_?"

A mournful grin appeared on his face, "Not like I never do."

"She's just a little girl- what harm can she do?" Wes shrugged easily. "And if she just moved here, she won't know-"

"Not a little girl," Soul sighed. "My age. I don't get _why_ she'd hang around him. She has to have better things to do."

Wes hummed out thoughtfully, "Yes, why would anyone your age put all their energy into taking care of a child when they could be living their lives?" Before Soul could even bother to indignantly slam the door in Wes's face, he was turning away, sending a nonchalant hand over his shoulder. "You should rest. I'll send Reggie by after he's done pouting."

A slow, shaking exhale followed the click of his door, but instead of reaching for the lock, Soul let it be. The springs groaned as he fell into the bed, instantly shoving his face into his pillow to catch the frustrated rumble that erupted from his chest. _How is it that he's completely fucking smitten with her? A few days with her and he takes her to that fucking tree and-_ He was grateful for the change of pace behind his eyelids- instead of that horrible bloated face from years ago it was Maka's looking up at him, Reggie's hand so carefully clasped in her own. _What do you see when you look at her, Reggie? Because all I see is my own fears shinin' back._


	8. Lonesome

Neither the shade nor the balmy humidity could lull Maka anywhere close to sleep as her mind ran rampant over everything but her academics. She had her textbook open in her lap but neither the page nor the fact that she hadn't absorbed a word mattered.

 _The Evans curse_ was the only resounding cry in her mind.

A young wife, new mother drowned in a lake. Ruled a suicide, but _everybody knows Wes killed her._

Two generations before another questionable suicide just before the wedding, supposedly the start of the rumored family affliction.

While the Thompsons had added webbed lines to each of these statements, Maka couldn't seem to draw any ties or give it the weight it seemed to deserve. All the voices that had uttered it had steeped it in a reverence that she couldn't reproduce.

 _Who cares?_ Maka wanted to scream. _There's a little boy suffering, lonely because you all want to hold true to backwater superstition. Just because your parents-_ Her mind forced that trap shut as her fingers did the same to the book. Stubbornness settled in her bones and she discarded her study to start across the backyard.

Maka tried to push away the feeling of déjà vu as Soul rounded the corner from the woods and stopped with a huff. This time there was no Reggie for him to look to and no shirt either, leaving him to cross his arms awkwardly over his chest as he ambled the rest of the way to where she stood. "Ms. Albarn, what part of _private_ time did you not understand?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes with a nip of her teeth into her lip. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you."

Soul's eyebrows raised, "I'm not takin' patients currently-"

"About Reggie," Maka corrected.

"Ah," Soul adopted half a sneer. _There it is- your real reason. Inevitable, right? Show enough interest in the kid to get close enough and then…_ "Listen, Ms. Albarn, his father isn't lookin' for a new wife and if you were trying to garner some kinda attention with _me,_ well…" He paused to roll lazy eyes over her but before he could finish the fine insult he was developing on his tongue, she snapped.

"Both of you could take a vow of celibacy for all I care," she lashed at him. "I'm _just_ trying to talk to you about your nephew for one second so could you rein in your testosterone-filled ego long enough for me to finish a sentence, _please_?"

His stomach shriveled as he nodded without a word.

"Good," she forced a harsh breath before waving a frustrated hand through the air. "I know you know Kilik. He mentioned that you were friends."

Soul almost offered an ' _I do'_ but that flare in her eyes was in no way fizzling.

"Which means you _must_ know about Kilik's niece and nephew." She urged upwards with her eyebrows, waving that hand again.

"I do," Soul finally snuck in weakly, hoping that's what she was egging forth.

"Then why haven't you brought Reggie with you?" It was a solid accusation from her mouth, a special breed of dissatisfaction leaving a crinkle in her brow. "He needs to be with other kids, and if he's not going to school-"

"Ms. Albarn," Soul found his tongue as anger started to creep up his spine. "You wouldn't understand the situation, so I'll ask you _again_ to get your nose out of it."

"I don't think there's anything to understand other than you're creating a sad, lonely little boy," she shot back without even a breath's worth of hesitation.

A sharp scoff came before the venomous hiss, "As if you know _anything_ about him! I don't know what your angle is, Ms. Albarn, but-"

"There's no angle," she shouted as her pitch rose desperately. "I just- _please_ , Soul. Is there a reason he can't go with you?"

Her pleading brought a different kind of tingle down his backbone as his fingers flexed into the flesh near his elbows. "I'm not there for pleasure, so bringin' him along isn't a possibility."

The tone relaxed but her eyebrows continued to work in confusion, "But Kilik's your friend, isn't he?"

"Closest thing I would consider to one," Soul sighed before shaking his head to try to toss all the thoughts aside, "but like I said, it's _none of your business._ "

He watched Maka bite into her lip again as a shaky exhale pressed through her nose. "Reggie is _lonely_ , Soul."

Soul waved an apathetic hand towards her, the words hissing off his teeth as that protectiveness flared again. "Why, when he apparently has _such_ a confidante here to whisper all his secrets to? Even though I told you to leave him be."

Instead of a wound to her pride as he expected, his words inflicted some type of sorrowful blow. "He only told me _one_ secret, Soul, and I was going to save you from it but maybe you need to hear it to take me seriously: he doesn't want to tell you about how he feels because he said you're always sad and sick enough as it is. He doesn't want to bother you." Maka sighed as the anger drained from him, a horrifying blank coming to those scarlet eyes.

"If you're lyin' to me," he barely croaked out as his throat started to tighten.

Maka shook her head slowly.

It was a slow unhinging as he turned away from her, his eyes glaring over the lake. That lockbox in his chest was swelling to bursting, a wounded cry wanting to escape from him. Instead, he ran a shaking hand through his sweat-dampened hair, expelling whatever he had left of the air in his lungs in a jagged sigh. "I…" But all the other options in his mind crumbled to bits. In a moment that gripped his insides with such terror, he was sure tears were threatening at his lids. Pulling his hair at the root, creating that tiny ounce of pain was the only thing he could do to abate it. _It's my fault again, isn't it? I can't keep it all together and he's-_

"If you have something to do there," Maka interrupted the horrors of his thoughts with muted intensity. "I don't mind coming and watching Reggie. It's only once a month, right?"

A tantruming call of 'why _you?'_ wanted to spring from him but he quelled it with another swipe through his hair. "You have much better things to do than play with a bunch of elementary kids."

Her movement was sudden, snapping into his view by taking a daring step in front of him. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to make up excuses for me."

He met her glare and the storm inside his chest was back again, a live animal clanging in between his ribs. "Did he really say that? That I was sad?" The voice that came from his lips confused him, all weakness instead of the playful gruffness he was used to. It was another man speaking - the one he often tried to ignore - the one held under lock and key.

"He spends most of his time with you, doesn't he?" Maka's voice fluttered down to match his, no more accusations and threats but a whisper that resembled the softness of the lapping water by their feet. "And you're his favorite person, I'm pretty sure. So it makes sense that he'd know every inch of you."

Soul laughed pitifully, "You make it sound like you agree with him."

"And it looks like you do too."

That burrowed into his chest with a faltering breath.

"When do you go to Kilik's again?"

"Uh," he stammered as his mind barely rebounded. "Whatever weekend comes near the fifteenth." Soul was shaking his head as he tried to drive every last thought but the date away.

Maka reached into her pocket, taking out of her phone and scrolling to the calendar. "Next Saturday?"

"You'd know better than me," he murmured as his eyes played back over the water. _Reginald, you little traitor. Givin' your heart to her like that, so easy._

"Here."

Soul looked back in time for the phone to be shoved in his face. "What?"

Maka urged it forward again until his hands came up slowly. "Your number. I'll text you and you can call or text when it's time to go."

Hesitation and maybe a hint of wonder were at his fingertips. "About this, Ms. Albarn…"

"About what?" She didn't seem to hold the same emotions for the moment, her legs fidgeting leaving a back and forth swing to her hips that he tore his eyes from.

"Actually," he stretched out the word as his fingers hit the first few numbers. "I'd appreciate it if this number stayed between you and me. Anyone asks you for it, you deny even havin' it."

A laugh caught on her lips as no smile came to his. "Are you serious?"

"Mama doesn't even have this number, Ms. Albarn, so I'd say I'm deadly serious." His fingers processed the last of the digits. Her eyebrows were on a rollercoaster and if Soul had the power to look up from the illuminated screen there would have been fitful laughter at the expression. Instead, he was trapped, the writing on the wall just as apparent as the numbers in front of him. _You're trusting her with something._

"Why have a phone if no one can call it?" Maka forced the incredulity in the face of her thundering heart as she saw the fear blossoming on his face.

"Appointments," he clipped. "And Reggie has it memorized."

"And _he_ keeps it secret?"

He offered the mildest of grins, "You'd be surprised; Reggie only gabs his own secrets. When he knows what he shouldn't say, he doesn't." His eyes narrowed for a moment, concentration completely disintegrating his smile. "I'd challenge you to ask him, but I'm almost afraid of the result."

A daring laugh from her mouth fluttered up and hit him in the face, "You did call me his confidante."

"Sarcasm, Ms. Albarn," a smirk was sneaking up his cheeks.

 _That's a deadly face he's making, but he doesn't seem to know it,_ flashed over her mind and Maka forced Blake's face over top of it, trying to see annoyance rather than such striking lines on his face. "I was told that was a Northern thing."

"And you are most definitely a Northerner," he slung back before moving out of her range, stepping back on to the path as if ready to dash off the way he came.

"You're not going back to the house?" Maka offered a look towards the path forward, trying to find the obstruction that had him retracing his steps.

"There might be more I have to think about today." That was almost lost on the turn of his heels, his voice meant for the breeze rather than her ears.


	9. Lawn Chairs and Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Soul and Star drinking beers in lawn chairs is my aesthetic. And I LOVE Reggie entirely. I hope you do too.

The bottles clicked and threw off tiny droplets of perspiration with each one of Soul's steps. The other man had definitely noticed him but was not making any moves of acknowledgement as he drooped spineless in the lawn chair at the end of the dock. "You melt or somethin'?" Soul called out as soon as his feet hit the planks.

"Or somethin'," Blake finally broke out into a smirk. "Heard you pissed her off."

"You'll have to be more specific," Soul mirrored the expression on his face. "I've pissed off many _hers_ this week."

"Bullshit," Blake scoffed. "Your mom and Nana Rung are just about the only _hers_ you got, and while I _know_ you've pissed off your mom more than once-"

"Blair and Kim," Soul snapped back before falling with a huff into the chair next to Blake.

"Fine, them too, but…" Blake outstretched a hand, holding his words until Soul had opened a bottle and placed it against his palm. "Now you've got a fifth girl in your life: Maka."

Soul rolled his eyes before popping open another cap and lifting the brown rim to his mouth to buy time. He let the suction pop before leveling the best quizzical look he could at Blake. "That cousin of yours? The blonde?"

Blake blew a raspberry in Soul's direction. "You're full of shit if you're trying to tell me you've just seen her around. She spent forty-five minutes bitching-"

"Impossible," Soul let out an incredulous little chuckle. "I didn't give her forty-five minutes worth of my time."

"Sure as hell gave her forty-five minutes worth to complain about though." Blake paused to tip back the bottle, his throat working through a few swallows before starting to bark at Soul again. "And what's your problem, anyway? All she wants to do is hang out with Eggie."

"Reggie," Soul corrected.

"The little guy, whatever." Blake shrugged, "I mean, Maka's good with the baby- Shelley. Takes care of her all the time. She can handle the kid."

"Not the point," Soul growled before buttoning his lip with the bottle.

" _Not the point_ ," Blake mimicked as he produced a frown that almost instantly cracked into a grin. "She bothers you too, doesn't she?"

"'Course she does," he grumbled back as he rested the barely cool bottle against his thigh. "She's the kind of girl who thinks she's always right. I bet no one's said _no_ to her for her entire life, so-"

Blake let out a disharmonious buzz, worse than any game show could offer, that grated like a finger pads against a balloon. "Wrong. Next guess."

"Wrong?" Soul shook his head. "Again- not fucking possible. The girl's spoiled. Gets her way too much."

Blake only replied with another irritating blare of sound.

"Then what?" Soul leveled an incredulous glare his way.

There was a pause, both men breaking stares only for sips of beer as Blake collected his best attempt at logic. "Not selfish, but sure, Maka's a fighter…" He rolled his head back against the chair running it along the sun-warmed bar that left his scalp aching almost as much as the memories of Maka's tear-stained face on more than one occasion. "But she has to. She's got mostly nothin'- never has." He let his head loll to the side to catch the measured and quickly hidden surprise on Soul's face. "Nobody's _ever_ given her what she wants, so she's always had to work harder or fight tooth'n nail for it. I guess you can say she kinda just jumps to the brawl instead of hearing the _no_ first."

Soul chewed over his malty tongue as he tried to formulate an argument.

"You two got more in common than you know," Blake prodded, enjoying the way it instantly stoked a fire in Soul who turned narrowed eyes to him.

"We're completely different people," he griped.

"Sure." Blake lifted his head up enough to bring the beer back to his mouth, letting the bitter note sit just as well as the words. "But I think there could be a pretty good contest between the two of you for who has the shittier parents. Or who's more lonely and pathetic." A whistle shrilled through the air between them. "Save that fight for when I'm around. That'd be interesting."

Soul's lips wrinkled into a frown. "What the hell does she have to be lonely about? From what I hear, she's a social butterfly. Already butterin' up Reggie and Kilik, I even hear the those gun girls-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Blake sat up so quickly that he left a layer of skin behind on the chair as it ripped with the suction of sweat. " _You've_ been checking up on her? Since when does Soul _fucking_ Evans research a girl?" Soul didn't even bother to open his mouth, knowing the cajoling wasn't done. "She _does_ bother you- in the _hot_ and bothered sort of way."

"Absolutely _not_ ," Soul spat back immediately.

"Oh, no, of course not," Blake mused. "But forget about it. She's got enough daddy and mommy issues that you're more likely to get a punch to the jaw than a smooch on the lips."

Soul rolled his eyes but as they fell back in Blake's direction the sarcasm faltered. "Her mother died?"

Blake narrowed his eyes, "Who told you that?"

"Overheard," Soul was careful to recite the words exactly, "Stein said he was sorry about her mother."

There was a long sip of silent study from Blake as Soul somehow felt an icy chill up his spine under the examination. "You gonna run your mouth?"

Soul let the accusation settle as his head slowly shook, that deadly smirk coming back to his face, "Because I know jack-shit about how much hurt rumors can do."

"Mhm," Blake smacked his tongue against his lips before pausing for another long draft. "Wren- that's Maka's mom- she's always been in and outta the hospital since Maka was born. Not sick, but _sick_ , y'know?" A low sigh rattled out of him. "Then Spirit can't keep his dick in his pants while she's gone and-" He fluttered a disgusted hand through the air, swatting away the horrible words he'd uttered. "Let's just say this time it doesn't look like there's gonna be a discharge date. Permanent stay, so Spirit brings Maka here thinkin' me, Marie, and Franken are enough 'cuz he's sure as hell piss-poor at picking up the slack."

 _Sure as hell sounds fucking lonely._ Soul drowned out the idea with another mouthful of beer. "So I'm supposed to feel sorry for her?"

"Feel however the fuck you want," Blake grumbled back. "I like you, I like this," he motioned the neck of the bottle towards Soul, "but you hurt her and I'll use you as fuckin' gator bait. So let her hang with Eggie-"

"Reggie," Soul hissed.

"Let her," he pressed back, "and if it bothers you so fuckin' much, just back off. You don't have to talk to her. She made it obvious it wasn't about you even if you do piss her off. She's worried about the kid and if that gives her some kind of peace of mind, _let her_."

A gale-force breath left Soul, drying up his lungs and making him wish the oxygen deprivation would leave him without the ability to think. _If she hurts him, can I use her as gator bait? Or is she just so… I don't think Reggie needs to be takin' care of another lonesome person._ That special derisive smile he only kept for himself was threatening to break. _Or maybe I'm just jealous- like I'm the only recluse he's supposed to love._ A shaky hand slithered into his pocket, bringing his phone out into the sunlight. He squinted at the screen as he scrolled through to his messages- that lone text from her sitting unanswered.

With a few more clicks he was putting the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Albarn," he tried to offer tonelessly.

"Hi." There was no nervousness to be heard and he entirely hated the echo of nothingness in her own voice.

"Reggie will come to pick you up this evenin' at six. Don't bother eatin' since Nana Rung will force feed you either way." His hand dropped to his thigh, cutting off the call as it slapped uselessly against skin.

"Didn't kill you," Blake chuckled.

"Time will tell," Soul sighed. "Give me my damn gator. I guess if Ms. Albarn is joining us then I have a lot more to do today than I thought."

"Like shave?" Blake offered hopefully. "Shower maybe, too. When's the last time you did that?"

Soul shot him a glare before shoving out of the chair.

"Gator's in the cooler at the end of the pier. Got your name on it like usual."

Soul waved an absent hand over his shoulder before sauntering down the planks. He dropped the mostly empty bottle next to the blue cooler before kneeling to open the top. His hand was just shuffling through the ice and packaged meat when he heard Blake clear his throat and cautiously brought his eyes back to him.

"Don't tell her I told you 'bout the mom stuff."

"Wasn't plannin' on bringin' it up," Soul grumbled before he brought his glare back to his monthly quarry.

"She's real sensitive about it."

Soul grabbed the wrapping before coming to his feet and pressing the lid firmly closed with his foot. A resigned sigh left him before he shrugged, "She'll have to get over that. They'll find out. They always do."

"Nah, not that," Blake frowned. "People have talked about her all her life- it definitely ain't that. Just… whatever. Not like it matters. Not like it matters to _you_."

Soul couldn't suss out the dagger-like quality of those words, nor could he figure the cause of that knot in his stomach as he trudged back through the grass.

Blake waited, watching the way Soul tilted his head in thought, one hand always coming to the back of his neck as if to cradle it to hold up the weight of it all. Once the man had trudged out of view, Blake sat up straight, announcing to the quiet world around him, "How'd I do?"

"He looked sad," Reggie sighed as he popped out of the reeds by the side of the water.

"Thought that's what you wanted," Blake shrugged. "To feel bad about how he treated Maka. Though, honest, Reg, your uncle's not wrong about wantin' to protect you. Or at least he wouldn't be wrong if it was anyone other than Maka." He waved Reggie forward and the boy exited his hiding place to skip along the dock. "Where's my money?"

"Here!" Reggie quickly dug in his pocket before offering out a shining coin in his palm. "It's just a quarter though, Mr. Star."

"What we agreed on, right?" He grabbed the money quickly, taking a moment to ceremoniously bite at the edge to send Reggie into a fit of giggles. "Hey, do me a favor, Reg."

Reggie tucked away the laughter to eye Blake seriously. "What?"

"Get him to talk to her, OK?" Blake made a quick jab with his chin in the direction of Soul's wake. "You know how he gets, quiet and all. It'd be good for both of them."

"Uncle's not going to like that," Reggie murmured.

"Fuck what he thinks he likes, Reg," Blake laughed.

Reggie's eyes widened for a moment. "That's not proper-"

"Yeah, yeah…" Blake waved it off. "Listen, you do that, and I'll give you more than a quarter."

"More than a quarter?" Enticing curiosity was suffusing the little boy's voice, eyes no longer widening from the cursing but the possibilities.

"Deal?" Blake held out his pinkie.

There wasn't even a breath of hesitation before Reggie took it, his tiny finger wiggling around Blake's.


	10. Makin' Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter, so please be ready!

Reggie arrived with excited punctuality, knocking politely at the door and offering a petite bow as Maka opened it. “Uncle’s taking us in the car!”

Maka couldn’t smother a laugh, letting it free out into the still hazily warm night as Reggie took her hand and started leading her towards the side of the house. As the driveway came into view so did the car, Soul leaning apathetically against the window and refusing to spend an ounce of energy to move his glare from over the dashboard. “Did he tell you where we were going?”

Reggie gave a succinct shake of his head.

“I guess it’s a surprise then, isn’t it?” Maka cooed back as she squeezed Reggie’s hand.

“Will you sit in the back with me?” Reggie wasn’t accepting a  _ no _ , leading her to the passenger rear door and opening it with a flourish.

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Soul griped but didn’t still didn’t crane his neck in any which way.

“I want to talk to Ms. Albarn,” Reggie firmly shot back, making Soul’s eyebrows jump.

Maka only caught the sound of a mutter from Soul, some grating grumble under his breath. “Thanks for picking me up.” There wasn’t much cheer to it, a straight formality as she slid in next to Reggie’s booster seat. The little boy was adept at fitting himself into the contraption, tiny hands moving with skill he shouldn’t have. Maka watched, carefully cataloging his movements, finding them fit to regulation in an oddly unsettling way.  _ He’s had too much practice. _

“Ready, Uncle!”

Soul huffed before putting the car in drive.

His sulking fell on purposefully deaf ears as Reggie turned his attention back to Maka, eyes bright and wide. “Did you go to school today?”

“I did.” Maka finally fixed herself in the seat, remembering her own safety as the car bobbed down the driveway.

“Are you making friends?”

_ Could you be sweeter, Reggie? _ Maka gave in to the urge to reach out, letting a hand fall to gently stroke his hair. “I have a few now. Ms. Elizabeth Thompson and her sister, Ms. Patricia Thompson. Also one you might know, Mr. Kilik Rung.”

“He doesn’t,” Soul cut in curtly.

“Well, one you  _ will _ know,” Maka couldn’t keep the snap from her voice.

“Uncle said-”

Soul cleared his throat. “Reggie.”

Reggie lowered his voice to a breathy whisper, “Uncle said you’re good at making friends.”

Soul sighed, “And you’re not good at whispering, Reggie.”

“You just have better listening ears than anyone else,” Reggie accused, little legs kicking against the seat. “Don’t try to sneak up on him, Ms. Albarn. He hears everything.”

“I won’t,” Maka could make the determined statement since as soon as her eyes slid to the front she was met with him glancing coldly from the rearview.  _ I don’t think he wants me even near enough to sneak. I’m going to guess while Reggie makes it sound sweet, that was probably originally said with a little Northern twang of sarcasm. _ “Reggie, tell me what you did today.”

Reggie’s fingers danced in a list as he spoke, “My tutor, Ms. Azusa Yumi, came and then Granmama had me help cut flowers- it’s hard; I don’t like it because I  _ never _ do it right!”

“You do it just fine,” Soul cut in. “Granmama’s too particular.”

A glowing smile hit Reggie’s cheeks and another string of twine wrapped around her heart. “I think your Uncle’s probably right.”

“Always right,” he grumbled from the front.

Reggie laughed at the sullen behavior before continuing, “I had lunch with Papa. Then Uncle-”

“Reggie, tell her about that frog you caught today,” Soul quickly interjected.

_ Reggie can’t talk about you to me? _ Maka almost let the accusation slip off her tongue but watched the forced frown on Soul’s face instead.  _ You’re trying not to smile. You’re enjoying how much he’s talking, you- there’s no way to figure you out, is there, Soul? _

“It was  _ huge _ , Ms. Albarn!” He began, pantomiming its size with his hands and mimicking with puffed out cheeks. 

Maka could barely contain herself when the croaks started and her eyes flicked to the front just in time to catch Soul smothering a laugh behind his hand.  _ Why aren’t you allowed to enjoy things? _

The rest of the ride was spent picking apart the day, Reggie suddenly veering away from conversation that included  _ Uncle _ in any fashion- just recounting the little ins and outs as if Soul hadn’t been a part of them. Even when the car pulled up to the drive of the squat, long ranch house made of muddy brick, Soul was still somewhere completely separate, almost jumping from the car as soon as he put it in park. Maka was left waiting with her charge, watching as he moved with springing steps up the cement walk.

The door clapped open, Kilik reaching out a hand with a grin. “So the day finally came, did it?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Soul said sharply as he slapped Kilik’s hand with only an ounce of amiability before squeezing past. “All I have to say is you had better…” but the words drifted off with Soul as he disappeared into the house.

“Better what?” Kilik offered over his shoulder with a shout but found nothing in return. He turned his attention back to Maka as she exited the car, bringing Reggie behind her to walk hand in hand. “So this Reginald Desjardins Evans, huh? Kilik Malcolm Rung, nice to meet ya.” He didn’t bother to lean over but offered a firm shake to the little boy.

“Mr. Rung!” Reggie chimed. “I’ve heard  _ so _ much about you.”

“Must be Ms. Albarn’s doing since I can’t imagine your uncle opening his mouth for it,” Kilik replied with a laugh. “And you can call me Kilik. And the twins… well, there’s one thing, Reginald.”

“Reggie,” the boy offered with a muted excitement that made his feet shuffle against the pavement.

Kilik knelt down, locking eyes with Reggie. “They don’t have a mama or a papa, so talking about that kind of stuff, well, it’s hard for them, so do me a favor and try not to, OK?”

Reggie nodded firmly.

Inside of Maka, a little piece screamed,  _ I can see how you and Soul bonded- that protection- but I wish both of you knew what it was like to not know the truth about your parents. You’re not keeping these babies from the hurt, just delaying it. _ Maka squeezed Reggie’s hand as she spoke: “Are you ready to meet them?”

“Yes, Ms. Albarn! Please!” There was a little jump to his step as Kilik waved the pair in through the screen door he opened for them.

The house didn’t echo antebellum but instead had begun life in 1950s and stayed there, with reddish-brown fuzzy carpet flooding across a wide open living room where walls were littered with family photos. The furniture was lived-in but screamed of comfort rather than destitution. Kilik gave Maka just long enough to absorb the sight before tugging at her elbow. “The twins are in their room, but why don’t we all go out to the backyard? Nana’s settin’ up for dinner.” As they hit the hallway, Kilik waved them into the kitchen while yelling, “Keahi and Iolana, let’s go!”

Maka heard the thunderous ring of feet behind her as she paused with Reggie in the kitchen. He lost her hand as he dipped against her knee, one arm snaking around the back of her leg to become half-hidden by her. Maka caressed his hair gently.  _ He’s not used to kids. He can talk to any adult but put another kid in front of him and he actually turns into one.  _ “I’ll do the introductions, OK, Reggie?” 

All she got in reply was a nod as two bright faces juggled for supremacy in the doorway.

“Hi!” the twin simultaneously chattered. Both sets of eyes were a pale blue, almost ghostly that blinked on sepia faces. Wispy blond hair hung limply at their jawlines, making the two identical besides their clothes. A dress was the only thing to make Iolana stand out from her brother.

Maka settled down to squat on her heels as she wrapped an arm around Reggie. “I’m Maka, and this is Reginald but you can call him Reggie. Is there something you like to be called?”

“Lana,” came an excited little chirp.

“Kea,” followed with just as much enthusiasm.

“Lana, Kea, it’s nice to meet you.” Maka turned gentle eyes to Reggie. “Right, Reggie?”

“Yes…” but half of it was swallowed by his face nuzzling into her shoulder.

Maka sent a knowing look up to Kilik who was already glowing with a smile. “Some of Nana’s cooking will brighten him right up. Lead ‘em outside, you two.”

Maka realized there was no getting away, instead having to scoop Reggie up into her arms to get them back to moving. His tight hold was a blessing, warmth from his body and the obvious need he had for her, but at the same time Maka’s heart trembled and threatened to break. “Reggie,” she murmured softly in his ear, lost to the rest of the crowd in the sound of the shuffle outside. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Maka paused for a breath, “Uncle Soul’s here, too.”

Reggie only nodded slightly, arms wrapping snuggly around her neck.

Maka tried to erase the wrinkle in her smile as they walked out onto a dirt patio under a green fabric overhang. A woman, ageless in the shade and fitted in the brightness of a floral print dress, was opening lids on a variety of trays before bringing appraising eyes to Maka. “So this is the girl.”

“Nana,” Kilik sighed with a frustration that had obviously been built over many conversations. “I told you. Maka, Reggie, meet Amelia Mae Rung, though if you try to call her anything other than Nana Rung you’ll regret it.”

“And I  _ told you _ ,” Nana Rung slipped right in between the introduction. “The day that boy brought someone here would be the day the gators got on two legs and danced a jig but here she is and- well, damn, there ain’t a gator in sight. She’s somethin’ though.” Maka was nothing more than a puzzle being arranged by those honey-gold eyes. They tipped with a sparkle of amusement down to the plates in order to finish the spread. “Suppose he’s not comin’ out for dinner, though. Stubborn as ever.”

“He’s waiting in your room,” Kilik answered with a chuckle before waving Maka into a chair. “You want to see to him first or…?”

“That fool can sit,” Nana Rung scoffed. “Boy has no sense, so it’ll teach him to sit there alone with his thoughts- though Lord knows that boy doesn’t need to listen to his mind half as much as he does. Chatter louder than any  _ rossignol _ .” Those twinkling eyes popped back up to meet Maka’s just as the word uttered with a hint of entertainment. “Come sit, girl. Bring that little gentleman over here and he can sit next to me since his uncle won’t.”

Maka wanted to balk but found her feet drifted forward anyway, egged on by Kilik and the twins as they flitted around the tableside. Maka slid a hesitant Reggie out of her arms and into a chair, frowning as a tiny fist clenched into the hem of her shirt. “Thank you for having us, Nana Rung.”

“Happy to have you by,” Nana Rung called back immediately before settling down next to Reggie. She leaned close, finally giving Maka a view of the fine lines on her face showing age that still couldn’t quite be placed. “And you, darlin’, aren’t you just the  _ picture _ of your mama! Besides the eyes, ‘spose that’s your papa- though I bet you like the little lady’s eyes, hm?”

Reggie risked a glance at Maka, taking her in as if he hadn’t noticed before. “They’re a pretty green.”

“So was your mama’s,” Nana Rung cooed back. “Though, think that’s where the likeness ends.”

“No!” Reggie started, his mouth making a surprised little ‘o’ before sneaking near Nana’s Rungs ear with a whisper meant for only her.

She nodded sagely as she listened. “Ah, so that’s what. Ms. Albarn, you’ve taken quite a few people’s fancies.”

“Nana,” Kilik groaned as he eased down into his seat across from Maka. “Maka, I swear she’s usually better behaved than this.”

Maka politely restrained a laugh especially as Nana Rung sucked her teeth in reply. “Well, so far, her critiques have nothing on Soul’s, so…”

That earned her hearty chuckles from both of the adult Rungs as the children looked on querulous. Nana Rung’s was especially drawn out, like gravel falling on a roof. “Does she have him pegged! Pleased tah see there’s wit tah go along with that. Hopefully an appetite too. Dig in y’all.”

Food didn’t come with discussion besides requests for passing which, after the hustle and bustle of arriving, Maka found relief in it. She still couldn’t stop her eyes from darting towards the back door, waiting for the aforementioned stubbornness to finally fizzle out of the only missing party but finding no hope or evidence of it happening. The door remained shut no matter how many times she glanced, not a peep coming from inside the house.

“Don’t give ‘im another thought, Miss Maka.” Nana Rung’s voice was somewhere on the fence between teasing and tired. “He’s a mule and he knows it. Sure glad someone whipped him enough to let this little treasure out, though!” She was smoothing through Reggie’s hair, bringing Maka’s attention back to finally find a pleased smile on Reggie’s face just in time to bring some relief to her heart. “You jus’ about finished? The twins have been itchin’ to play with you since I said you were comin’ by. Lana has a particularly fine collection of lightnin’ bugs and Kea’s been holdin’ out on using his new colorin’ books. I think they’d like to share them with you.”

Two little identical heads were nodding in agreement, tentative grins starting on their faces. “An’ I have frogs, too,” Lana added.

“An’ colored paper,” Kea tried to assert over his sister but it did nothing more than break the floodgate of offers.

Maka nibbled into her lip as she brought a worried glance to Reggie. An easy breath came to her when she saw the echo of the twins’ joy on Reggie’s face. Even better, that tiny hand was no longer clutching to her, instead ready for the gifts he was about to receive.

* * *

Watching from the window was a feat not exactly feasible as Soul begrudgingly found. Nana Rung’s shutters could either be completely opened or fully closed, with little room for compromise. He would have to be entirely obvious in his stalking or sit unknowingly in the dark. He liked neither option, so he contorted at every possible angle until he was crouched next to the glass, eyeline with the tiny crack just above the sill. His jaw hurt from clenching as he watched Reggie settling into his fear and it just about snapped when the joy finally hit the little boy’s face.  _ Please, Ms. Albarn, please,  _ and with that he wasn’t sure what he hated more: the chance that Reggie could get his heart ripped to shreds or that Maka Albarn was the linchpin. 

There was a distinctive guttural groan starting in his chest when the door popped open, startling him to the point of falling flat on his ass.

“A mule,” Nana Rung cackled.

“‘Scuse me?” Soul snapped back as he stared up at her with a pained grimace.

“Nevermind that,” she clucked her tongue as she walked over to him, “and nevermind watchin’ the window. She’s doing fine with ‘em, and he’s-”

A hoarse complaint from his throat only bought him a momentary pause before she continued.

“And he’s luckily your brother’s son; he won’t have a lick of trouble getting along with the twins, or anybody for that matter.”

Soul’s spine curled, letting his head fall against his knees with both the bitter taste of shame and anger fighting on his tongue.

“You gettin’ treated today or you gonna sit on the floor and sulk?”

“I hate her,” he muttered.

“Ah, so it’s that kinda treatment first then…” Nana Rung eased into the armchair by the window with a sigh. “She seems awfully nice to me. Maybe a little stubborn, but I would say that’s the pot callin’ the kettle black if that’s what you take issue with.”

“I take issue-” snapped from his throat but as he raised his head all the words lost their force, instead that much hated heat that predicted tears came to his eyes. “Fine, I’m full of shit.”

Nana Rung chuckled, “Sure are.”

“But I…” he croaked as he let his chin rest on his knees while his eyes traced the fuzzy pile of the carpet. “How much do I let her take?” he murmured to the floor. “Mama’s right, I’m not his father, but… what else do I have? And why am I goddamn selfish enough to want to kick and scream so she doesn’t take any of it from me?”

“What makes you think that what she’s doing is takin’?”

“You saw him,” Soul spat scornfully. “Head over heels for her, wants to tell her every last thing and follow her like a shadow and-”

“Sure,” she cut in with years of certainty settled in her words, “but why does that mean you’re cut out? She sure doesn’t seem like the type.”

Soul sucked his teeth, “You just met her. Can’t even say  _ I  _ know what type she is.”

“Avoidin’ the real question,” Nana Rung murmured, rolling her eyes. “You’ll see. It’s not about takin’ away, it’s about makin’ room. You’ve never had to do that before, but it’s about time you learned. Meanwhile, she’s gonna need you.”

His eyebrows crinkled as his glare settled on her. “Ms. Albarn? Need  _ me _ ?”

“She’ll need that tendency of yours to overthink a problem to death,” Nana Rung chuckled as she came back to her feet. “Now, fold out the table. I hear the children rattlin’ around out back and it won’t be long before they’re too tired to play anymore.”

Soul followed orders, moving to the closet to take out the folding table that acted as a makeshift gurney he’d been well acquainted with for the past few years. It didn’t stop his mind from churning over her prophecy and by the time he was shedding his shirt and lying down on the cold plastic, he couldn’t stop the words from jumbling out from behind his teeth. “She’s got a problem?”

“More than one, I’d say.” Nana Rung clucked her tongue as she shook her head. “And I don’t appreciate you playin’ stupid. You’ve got your own inklin’s, don’t you?”

He let a tired breath loose to the ceiling as her hands fell into the pressure points on his chest. Nana Rung lips were only leaking those same old slow prayers in reply, tawny eyes now closed with wrinkles of concentration starting between them.

_ Problems? _ He shut his eyes as that familiar tingle came to his skin, the ants biting and crawling between veins and tissue that left him itching for days.  _ Nah, none. Bullshit. Happy-go-lucky little bookworm that gets her way with each step. _ A stuttering start from his chest broke his concentration, letting a bit of the painful pressure eke in as punishment.  _ Alright, alright, fine! What did Blake say? Which one of us has shittier parents or’s more lonely and pathetic. Three killer problems right there. _ Next it was a groan, Nana Rung’s hands anything but gentle even with the prayer to soften it.  _ And she looks tired- so tired, doesn’t she? Like she’s holdin’ everything up on her own without another set of hands and- _

“I can hear your thinkin’ loud and clear,” Nana Rung warned. “Told you this was no good if you don’t clear your mind- at least try to convincingly give yourself to the Lord, to healin’.”

Soul beat his head against the plastic with a useless thud as if it would shatter the rest of that worry into oblivion. “Try again.”

“Nope,” Nana Rung slapped a hand to his chest, jolting his eyes open to see hers burning holes into him. “Your mind’s rarely here to begin with, no matter how many times we do this, and it’s most certainly not today. How ‘bout you go outside and  _ try _ to have a nice time with your nephew?”

“I’m not here to have a nice time,” he grumbled weakly as guilty eyes darted away from hers.

“Yes, yes, jus’ business.” Nana Rung pulled her hand away from him, bringing it to cross with the other around her middle. “Speakin’ of, I want to change my payment. Gator was fine, but with you dawdling the way you are, my art’s harder to do.”

Soul sat up with a huff, “Fine, what?”

“You bring that girl, your nephew two more times a month.”

His scoff cracked between them but did nothing to change the decided look on her face. “I can bring Reggie, but I can’t promise Ms. Albarn’s time. That’s ridiculous.”

“Discuss it with her,” Nana Rung answered with an ease of simplicity that left him dumbfounded. While Soul sat there staring, she started for the door, disappearing just as quickly as she’d snuck up on him.

_ Discuss it with her? _ his mind shrieked. Soul pushed off the table, snatching his shirt from its spot on the bed before trying to urge lifelessly tingling arms into the holes. He took a moment to resist the urge to rip up his skin with frustrated nails before storming out the door and into the hallway. Soul had to slow once he reached the kitchen, his heart already starting an anxious thundering in his chest. His fist dug into his t-shirt, straining the fabric as he tried to slow the beat by massaging it uselessly with his knuckles.

Soul made it to the grass, feet moving as fast as his body would allow to the small circle of them on the ground. The heads formed a crown, three blondes only broken by a raven in between them. A twitter of giggles was erupting just as he got close enough, solidifying his shoes in the dirt. Maka turned her head just enough to catch him in the periphery, moving enough to bring the display of ecstatic faces around a picture book into his view, even though that was entirely not what he was seeing.

The smile she effortlessly threw over her shoulder hit him with the force of a bullet as an entirely new electricity fluttered from his chest to his stomach. It didn’t settle there but wriggled, making his hands move anxiously through his hair as his eyes flitted away from the glow of her face to catch that of the insects in the air. The coming darkness was the only thing that saved him from complete embarrassment, dim enough that the burst of color high on his cheekbones looked like nothing more than a trick of shadows.

“You finally decided to show?” Her voice lilted with a pleasant teasing that brought that strange tingling down to his legs. But the flush didn’t stop, nor did the wave of nerves, and Soul’s knees suddenly threatened to buckle. All he could manage was a grunt of air and as his head spun, eyes unable to focus, he suddenly grounded in her hands as they clutched his waist. “Sit down.” There was no sweetness, just an order as she brought him slowly to the ground. “Reggie, come here. Kea, Lana, can you go in the house and get Nana to make Soul a plate? I think-”

“I’m fine,” he croaked.

“You’re a bad liar,” she shot back before turning her voice sweet for the children again. “Food, please, Kea, Lana. Maybe something sweet to drink, too.” 

Her hands didn’t need to leave him for Reggie to step up, no fear apparent on his features as he peered into Soul’s face. “What can I do, Ms. Albarn?”

Maka smiled gently at him, “Just stand behind him, Reggie. Give him something to lean on.”

“I’m fine,” Soul tried to gripe again but little hands were firm on his shoulders, pulling him back to at least take some weight off.

“When’s the last time you ate?” It came as an accusing snap and for a moment, Soul was sure he was going to get prodded with it, but instead her hands came softly to touch his forehead and comb through his sweaty bangs. “Well?”

“‘Dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe…” a sigh followed off with the trail of his word.

“Or was it-” Maka cut off and Soul finally focused on her face long enough to see her bite into her lip. 

“Not anythin’ Nana Rung did,” he whispered just above the sound of the breeze moving through the grass. “Honestly, haven’t eatin’ since yesterday, most likely.”

“Most likely,” Maka mimicked with a huff. “Soul, what reason-”

“Reggie,” he grumbled to cut her off. “Go help the twins.” For an infuriating moment, Reggie looked to Maka and Soul’s eyes bugged from his head. “Get goin’.” It only took the second request to urge Reggie on, his warmth leaving Soul’s back as he trotted across the lawn back to the house. “Ms. Albarn-”

“If you sent him away, does that mean you’re going to be honest?”

The accusation bristled the hair on his neck, still somehow phased by her boldness. He blinked slowly through the disbelief before muttering, “You said he was worried about me, so didn’t want him to hear that- well, I…” his tone dipped down to nothing again, “... couldn’t eat with how nervous I was with what could happen with him.” Soul had expected instantaneous scolding, possibly even ribbing, but there was only the hum of cicadas. Instead, as he raised his head, Maka was watching him in contemplative silence. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Maka offered him an amused grin. “It’s funny- he’s such a little gentleman, but he actually morphs back into a kid when they’re around. I’m so glad you let him come, I think he really needed that and-”

“Yeah, no need to do any more convincin’,” Soul cut her off with a weak smile.

“Miss Maka!” Kea called.

“We brought food!” Lana finished for him as the two ran up, Reggie not far behind but with slower steps as he carefully balanced a cup full of syrupy, dark liquid.

The exchange passed without issue, Maka resting the plate in Soul’s lap as she waited for Reggie. As soon as he had passed the cup to her, Reggie was climbing on Soul, displacing the plate as he cuddled against the man’s chest. “Here!” A sweet command from Reggie’s mouth as he stole the fork from the plate, piling on a bite before bringing it up towards Soul’s mouth.

“I can feed myself,” Soul chuckled, but it trailed away as all of the expectant eyes in the group stared at him. He hesitated, lips pursed tightly before he gave in, opening wide enough that Reggie could force in the forkful. All attempts were made to give the appearance of arduous chewing, but Maka noted the sneaking start of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Reggie filled the fork again. “More!”

“Told you I can do it jus' fine,” he grumbled as he stole the utensil away, popping the next bite in his mouth before discarding it on the plate and pushing it all aside. His muscles ached and so did his mind, screaming an uneasiness that made his stomach turn but Soul had no choice. He wrapped Reggie up in his arms, dipping his head to hide it against the boy’s hair.

Joy and sorrow fought in Maka’s chest as no question came from Reggie, just a small knowing smile as Soul clutched to him as a drowning man would a buoy. Turning her eyes away from it pulled her chest even tighter, but Maka forced her attention to the twins. “Could you tell Nana we’ll be leaving soon?” They nodded vigorously at the request before chasing each other back into the house. “You should eat a little more, and drink all of this.” Maka motioned the cup at Soul as he finally raised his head.

Soul simply hummed out an affirmative before taking the drink and bringing it to his lips. The saccharine mix left him wincing, but he forced the liquid over his tongue to fill a gut that was painfully empty. “More mix than water,” he grunted. Dutifully he tipped it towards her, showing just drops of residue left. “Am I allowed to stand now?”

Maka snorted a laugh, “As if you’d listen if I said  _ no _ .”

“What if  _ I _ said no?” Reggie snuck in as he finally lifted his head from Soul’s chest to stare up at him expectantly.

“Whose side are you on exactly?” Soul didn’t wait for the reply as he started to move his legs out from underneath Reggie, angling so he could get to his knees. “Reggie, do me a favor and grab the plate and cup, will ya?”

Reggie hopped-to without argument, picking up all the bits scattered on the lawn as Soul slowly got to his feet. Maka’s hand was there to steady him, secure at his elbow but gone as soon as he seemed to even out. “I can drive, if you’d like.”

“Nah,” Soul shook his head. “Wasn’t much more than getting caught by surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Maka narrowed her eyes as he brought his back to her, half a smirk sitting on his face.

“Your smile,” he laughed. “Never seen it ‘til now since all you do is make that sour face. Too much of a shock s’all.” For all of the flirtatiousness of the words, they came with an emptiness that brought icy down her spine rather than any sort of trickle of fire. Soul turned away from her, showing his back before reaching in his pocket to pull out and jangle the keys. “Come on, Ms. Albarn. We’ve overstayed our welcome.”

Reggie shared a mournful look with her. “Sorry, Ms. Albarn.”

Before Maka could even ask, Reggie was picking up speed, catching up to Soul’s side as they disappeared into the house. Chatter was instant, the twins and Reggie creating those cacophonous goodbyes of children as they nudged into one another. Soul didn’t seem to notice, his eyes steady on Kilik as he was expressing his own.

“Miss Maka, a moment.” Nana Rung placed a soft hand on Maka’s shoulder as she leaned a bit closer. In her other hand, she offered between them a keychain that held a six-point white blossom with yellow stamen ornamenting the middle. “I’d like you to take this.”

Maka reached a tentative finger to touch the algid, metal flower. “It’s beautiful, but-”

“I’ll ask that you take it with you on your walks,” Nana Rung interrupted with a low whisper.

The blood in her veins congealed, stopping up her heart as she desperately searched for the ability to deny.  _ I don’t. I don’t walk. And you don’t know that I walk. And I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I don’t need- _

“Ms. Albarn?” The shock didn’t wear away at Soul’s voice especially as his grip closed her fingers around the fake floret that had somehow made its way into her palm. “Say thank you, and let’s go.”

Maka set wide eyes on Nana Rung who only nodded, her face suddenly ravaged with something in between knowledge, regret, and hope. “Thank you,” managed to creep from Maka's mouth. A tiny hand clasped in the one at her side, Reggie looking up expectantly at her before beginning to lead her out of the kitchen. The twins hustled after, making a ruckus of a send-off.

“Nana,” Kilik started in a cautious tone but a single raised finger hushed him. It stayed lingering between them until the front door closed. “Nana, that was Chi’s.”

“I know what I’m about,” Nana Rung murmured.

There wasn’t enough truth to it to feed him, forcing Kilik to hiss another sentence that he could instantly taste the regret of, “I don’t get you- talking like she’s some special girl. Sure, Soul finally showing an interest in anyone is new, but it was  _ bound _ to happen, but giving her something of Chi’s-!”

“It’s worth the risk,” Nana Rung spat with a stinging finality. “We just have to wait and see if she’s really a Rossignol.”

* * *

The three of them drove back in silence. For Reggie it was unintentional, his tiny chin dipping to his chest in thorough exhaustion as soon as the ride started, leaving the recounting of his fun for another day. Maka’s eyes only flitted between the sleeping boy and the charm in her hand that her fingers had worked until the metal was feverishly warm. Soul had caught her in the rear-view a few times, but no matter his fidgeting or clearing of his throat, nothing had brought her attention to him. All he had was the hum of the engine and the terrors in his head.

By the time they pulled up to her house, it had eaten a hole in his stomach. “You must think I’m awful,” he murmured as his knuckles turned white with his grip on the steering wheel.

Maka didn’t offer an answer, just brushed more of the black hair from Reggie’s relaxed forehead.

“I just remember what it was like- what it felt like the first time someone said anything about Wes,” his voice trembled through the quiet, closed car. “I’d do anything to keep him from that.”

Her fingers reluctantly abandoned the soft touches to unlatch her seatbelt so she could tip forward and lean into the center console between the two front seats. “You can’t protect him,” Maka watched him woefully chew on the words, red eyes closing shut to turn off the desperate look out the windshield. “And you’re not alone in that mistake. Kilik’s making it too.” Even with her softening the blow his face didn’t change, instead a new wave of anguish tightened his jaw. “What you can do is teach him how to deal with it. Let him know the way he feels is alright because you’ve felt it- though something tells me you don’t even admit that you feel it.”

Soul exhaled sharply as his forehead tipped forward, hitting his knuckles that still ached with lack of circulation. “I wanna scream,” he muttered in a low rumble. “I wanna yell at you that you don’t know a goddamn thing and that life is a lot more complicated than that sugary northern view of yours.”

“But you know you’re wrong,” Maka nudged his side.

His only answer came in the form of another huff of air.

“I’m not that much of an optimist, you know.” She copied him as her head fell against the passenger side seat. “People talk. I’m not immune to it- in fact, my mother… well, I’ve gotten into more than one fist fight over something someone said about her.”

His eyes popped open, a curious look coming as his chin tucked on top of his arm rather than between. “You? A brawler? Ms. Albarn, I absolutely  _ do not _ believe that for a moment.”

“Scandalous, I know,” she giggled back. “But I’ve bloodied a few noses. I may be a bookworm but during my sophomore year, I think I spent more time suspended than in school, but I became sort of numb to it by junior. Focused by senior. Now…” Maka trailed a finger over the plastic, drawing absent patterns as she accumulated and rearranged the words on her tongue. “Well, I guess I thought ‘new town, new beginning,’ but of course it’s the same everywhere you go. I should take my own advice, huh?”

“Not one to judge,” Soul shrugged as his eyes lingered over hers. He listened to his heart beat thundering in the silence, the gentle flutter of Reggie’s breath and hers the only thing to break it otherwise. “Thank you, Ms. Albarn, for taking care of him today.”

“Does that mean you’ll admit you’re wrong?” That left her lips with such ease that Soul felt his stomach wriggle.

“And just what am I wrong about  _ now _ ?” he muttered back.

“That I can’t see him.” She lifted her head, back to wavering attentively between the two seats as she pressed closer to his shoulder. “You know you can’t order me around- I’m not a child- and I’m not interested in anything other than what’s good for Reggie.”

Some ugly creature was gnawing at his heart, forcing Soul’s eyes back out into the illuminated path in front of her house. It pushed and pulled in his chest, a tumultuous battle that gave him no energy to lift his tongue.

“I’m going to take your silence as agreement,” she snipped before disappearing into the darkness of the backseat. He forced his eyes to the rearview mirror just in time to watch Maka tenderly glide fingers over through Reggie’s hair. “Good night, Reggie,” passed as a breathy whisper, so slight that Soul barely caught it. Maka turned back to the door, hitting the latch and letting the thick air of the night destroy the safety of the cabin. His eyes followed her, first as a shadow and then in her entirety as she entered the span of the headlights. There was no pause, no look back at him and as she slid without ceremony into her door, Soul let out a bitter sigh.


	11. Better Off Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be prepared for a downward spiral 💜

Libraries are meant to be sanctuaries, built in order to be saturated in silence that is only broken by the whispers of pages. Unfortunately, Maka was well on her way to realizing this was a dream that would never be reality for her. Originally, the interruption had been fine since the Thompsons sisters had started to take up the other chairs at her table, breaking her concentration sporadically for a tidbit of gossip or just a breather from their forced studiousness. Except that had drawn attention, made it a spot for Maka to be found, a habitual haunting that now brought that auburn-haired menace in front of her.

This time all fake pleasantries had been washed aside as Clara’s heels clacked against the tile. Her hands sat on hips, but Maka was too busy watching her nostrils flare above those pouting cupid bow lips.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Patty cooed at Maka before she leaned back in her chair, throwing a grin in Clara’s direction. “Clara! What brings you-”

“Albarn,” Clara snapped. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“She’s busy.” Liz’s sensible smile blocked Clara’s view as she made herself a wall by leaning across the table. “Care to leave a message?”

Clara’s tongue flicked nervously over her lips before she started, “Listen, Thompson, I’m not-”

“Smart?” Liz laughed.

“Interesting?” Patty seconded.

Maka snorted a laugh from behind her blockade.

Clara’s hand slapped to the tabletop but neither blond jumped, both sets of eyes left completely unbatted. “It’s entirely none of your business! It’s between Albarn and I-”

“Ms. Albarn?” a heavy voice settled behind Clara. Maka instantly tilted to the side, gathering a strange view around the edge of Liz’s hair. For a split second she was sure it was Soul, but the grin wasn’t at all toothsome and the eyes shined with entirely too much mirth.

Clara turned quickly on her heels, butt bumping into the table as she tipped back in surprise. “Oh, Wesley, I was just…”

“Speaking to Ms. Albarn,” Wesley finished with an easy grin. He beamed it at Clara for only a moment before sidestepping her at the table to bring the rest into view. “May I inquire as to which one of you lovely ladies that name belongs to?”

Liz sat up straight, flicking her hair in the process. “It depends- what are you looking for? Because if it’s a date, then I’m  _ definitely _ Maka Albarn.”

“It’s her.” Patty tossed a bucket of cold water on her sister’s dreams while hitching a thumb in Maka’s direction.

“Um, you’re Wes- Reggie’s father, right?” Maka’s expression did little to hide the joy of the name and Wes’s face reacted in kind.

“That I am, and apparently a lucky man at that. I just happened to follow Clara in here to deliver a message from my mother, but imagine the blessing of running into the woman I’ve been meaning to introduce myself to.” Wes smoothed a hand through his hair with the ease of a model, giving Maka no flashbacks to Soul’s awkward mirroring of the motion. “And if it’s not entirely too much to ask, could I have a word with you? It’s long overdue.”

“Wesley,” Clara’s shrill complaint started but stuttered off as he brought that amiable face back to hers.

“Ah, that’s right, Clara. My apologies.” Without skipping a beat he scooped up her hand, patting it with soft reassurance lighting across his eyes. “After yesterday’s unfortunate…  _ disagreement _ , Mother would like you to hold off coming to dinner this weekend.”

A flush of color hit Clara’s cheeks as she pulled her hand away. Her mouth gaped for a moment, vitriol waiting on her tongue but it refused to eject as the mortification swept her. Instead, it was her feet that sounded again, the tight clicks as she launched back the way she came.

Patty whistled, sending eyes shining with amusement towards her sister.

“Maka, that’s your cue,” Liz whispered. “Go  _ talk _ to Wesley  _ Evans _ .” She threw a smirk over her shoulder, “And don’t forget to put in a good word for me.”

Maka tried to resist the urge to giggle, making a truncated huff of air instead before coming to her feet. “If it’s about Reggie-”

“Well, yes and no,” Wes turned his jovial attention back to Maka. “Would you mind taking a turn with me?” He said it as if it was a fine garden he was about to walk her through but instead he swept a hand towards a row on bookshelves. Even without rose hedgerows to woo her into motion, Maka still followed, taking up the space closest to the books. He led her to the end of the line before waving down the row. “I know this is an odd place to accost you, but I am rarely at home- usually I’m either performing or here at the university.”

Maka shook her head pleasantly, “It’s no bother. Honestly, I probably should have introduced myself earlier, but Soul seemed…”

“Soul acts in Reginald’s interests, yes.” The shine in his eyes flickered for a moment and Maka feared wholeheartedly that it would die. The spark stayed, the next words rejuvenating it, “Reginald has taken such a liking to you that I suppose I just wanted to see the genuine artifact myself.” His laugh struck her as musical, a pleasant base that definitely made a mockery of Soul’s snorts and dry chuckles.

_ I wonder if this is what  _ his _ laugh would sound like if he actually had one. _ Maka tried to shake the thought away.

“I also wanted to express how glad I am at that fact.” In much the same way as he’d done to Clara, Wes smoothly caught Maka’s hand, bringing it up as if he were going to examine her not so delicate knuckles. “Protecting Reginald has become a household pastime but I’m afraid it stunts him- stunts  _ us _ , and I’m glad that you seem to have set us  _ all  _ on a better path. Thank you, Ms. Albarn, or Maka- may I call you Maka?”

“Of course,” Maka urged as the relief tingled down to her gut.  _ At least one of them will call me by my name. _ “And if there’s anything I can do, Soul has my number, so-”

“Does he?” For the first time, the joy was absolutely gone, smothered by a surprise that shot Wes’s eyebrows up his forehead. “And _you_ , Maka, have his number to reach us if necessary?”

“Well…”  _ I’m supposed to say no, but isn’t it just common sense if I said he has my number that I would have his? Unless I could pretend that he hasn’t contacted me- as if that would be hard to fake with how sour- _

“You know, Maka, silence is often read as admission.” Now it was Soul’s smile he was wearing, the slyness stretching across his face like a cat with a canary. “In that case, I assume we’ll be seeing plenty of each other in the future. Again, thank you for watching out for my son. He really does enjoy your company.”

Maka watched the book close on the conversation, Wes’s attention instantly gone as he spun on his heels for a smooth walk back down the rows. He offered the Thompsons a wave that spoke only of warmth rather than obligation before heading back towards the entrance with an amused hop to his step. As soon as the sun hit him, it wasn’t its glare that he felt or enjoyed the most. Instead, it was his brother’s steady staring that fed him. “Soul, you followed me here.”

Soul slunk out from the shadowy inlet next to one of the many ornate statues that littered the lawn of the library in an attempt to vivify a building ravaged by time. “You’re causin’ trouble.” 

“I simply came to work,” Wes offered and watched it wrinkle his brother’s forehead further. “And I had a few messages to deliver. I’m just lucky I could kill two birds with one stone.”

“And what two birds are you killin’ exactly?” While Soul tried to make his eyes lazily roll towards the door, the propulsion was much closer to a dart, making Wes sing out another chuckle.

“One, telling your  _ fiancée _ that she’s no longer invited to dinner…”

Wes left the perfect pause for Soul to spit into, “If you’re talkin’ about Clara, you’ve got  _ feathers _ for brains because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna-”

“No, no, I heard that argument loud and clear last night when you muttered it at the two of them. Though I do appreciate that you’ll give it to me with a little more tone, a little vigor,” Wes laughed again. “And two, telling that other beautiful lady in your life  _ thank you _ .”

“There’s no beautiful lady-”

“Oh, dear brother, I will not allow you to slander her!” Wes tried to close the space between them in order to pat a hand to Soul’s shoulder but sighed as the younger man deflected the touch. “Maka’s really a picture, isn’t she? And such a personality!”

Soul scoffed, “Personality? Is that what you call it?”

“Again, brother, I refuse to accept anything other than  _ ‘we have an angel on our hands.’ _ ”

“More a mockin’bird than an angel,” he croaked back. “Or maybe just a  _ rossignol _ .”

The amusement shed from his face, his hand now not to be denied as he grasped Soul’s bicep. “Don’t tell me you’re adopting Mother’s view on her.”

There was a flinch at Wes’s touch but everything else drifted away from Soul, his eyes nothing more than blank pools. “I don’t care about her one way or another. She’s good to Reggie. That’ll do.”

Wes would have better luck reading sign-language than deciphering the look on Soul’s face but that didn’t mean he didn’t take the time, a few achingly slow moments between the two of them, to try. After the failed attempt, the mirth bubbled back as Wes slid the hand from Soul’s arm to clap him on the shoulder. “Then you won’t mind giving me her number.”

“You don’t need to be callin’-” Soul instantly cut off his words, seeing the exuberant shine leaping to his brother’s eyes.

His fingers tapped against Soul’s shoulder blade to a joyous tune starting in his head. “So you do have her number.”

_ There’s no right answer. I fell right into that damn trap and that idiot is enjoyin’ every minute of it.  _ Soul wriggled away from Wes, opting for the flee rather than fight but finding his brother’s steps happily kicking up next to his. “I don’t call her, if that’s what you think.”

“Show me your call history,” he cooed back almost instantly.

“You’re bein’ ridiculous,” Soul muttered as he protectively flattened his hand over the hem of his pocket, preempting any sneaking attempts.

“Never were one for talking so you’re probably more likely to text her anyway, aren’t you?” Wes nudged his shoulder into Soul’s as they walked. “And I thought I was happy for Reggie, but if you-”

Soul’s feet planted, letting Wes get a few steps ahead with that pleasant gait of his. “I’m not doing anything!” It erupted from his throat as a haunted cry, forcing Wes to turn with shock painted on his face.

“Soul-”

“No,” this sounded closer to pleading and while Soul was sure eyes and ears were abound the words still crumbled from his mouth. “I’m not  _ you _ . I can’t- I can’t risk it and I never will so  _ stop _ talkin’ about her to me like you’re some matchmaker. For shit’s sake you’re no better’n Mama or Clara.”

“Hey,” it wasn’t an objection from Wes but a tentative greeting that sprung up behind Soul.

Soul turned quickly, coming almost face to face with Kilik. That monster reared in his chest again, tearing away flesh from bone, a desperate ache starting as the muscles tightened. “Tell your Nana there’s  _ no deal _ ,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “I don’t care what all of you are plannin’ but leave me the hell out of it.”

“Alright…” Kilik blinked after Soul as he rushed off down the walk. “What was that about?”

Wes let the air deflate from his heart, “Soul’s had another offer of marriage.”

“That so…” Kilik’s shoulders rattled with his own breath before he turned his eyes to Wes’s. “Guess he’s taking it as well as ever.”

A roll of his eyes didn’t fulfill the frustration, but Wes held on to every last curve of the run before replying, “Just as well as he’s taking the introduction of Maka into our lives.”

Kilik offered him a bitter smile. “Shouldn’t you say Ms. Albarn?”

“All of those little quirks that Soul thinks keeps him from falling in love are his own,” Wes tried to give life to that with a laugh, but it was dry and fizzled lifelessly from his lips. “And now I’ve pushed him a little too far, I think.”

“S’alright. Nana sorta added to it. Guessing it feels a little fresh- kinda raw still.” Kilik brought a hand to the back of his neck to rub away the second-hand shame. “Don’t blame him, either… I mean, well…”

“Yes, when you firmly believe your brother is responsible for the death of his wife simply because he  _ loved _ her, that would give one some neuroses.”

Kilik didn’t swallow the flippancy easily, finding his words in reply grating against his throat. “You and me both  _ wish  _ that’s what it was,” he huffed out a sigh. “Is he still throwin’ up?”

Wes paused, weighing the reality before breathing it to life. “More than once a week.”

“Shit,” Kilik muttered. “Does he talk about her?”

Wes practically slapped Kilik’s question from the air, “Why would he?”

“Why would he,” Kilik echoed with a solemnness saturating each word. “Do you think…” He paused, gauging Wes’s face, measuring his rights as the other man rolled his wrist to egg the words on. “Do you think Maka looks like Vivienne?”

“Can’t say she does,” Wes tried to press the words out with some kind of ease but all they were was tight. “Her eyes though… yes, her eyes, definitely. And of all people, Soul would see that, I suppose.”

“Thought so,” Kilik sighed. “Wes, it’s not my place, but… gettin’ him to talk about her-”

“Is  _ not  _ something I can do,” Wes answered flatly. 

The absence ate at Kilik, freeing the rest of his thought, “You ever think maybe you owe it to him?” Wes started to shake his head and take a few steps but Kilik grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Whether you’re at fault or not,  _ he _ found her,  _ he  _ had to see that, so don’t you think that you at least owe it to him to-?”

“What?” Wes’s voice was entirely not his anymore, a bitter beast taking over his tongue. “You think he’ll be comforted by a man he thinks is a murderer? He only  _ tolerates _ me because I am his  _ brother _ , but beyond that, I don’t believe he’d give a damn if I was the next one to be taken by this curse.” Wes threw off Kilik’s hand with a dip of his shoulder. “Don’t mistake him, Kilik. Deep down, Soul Evans wishes I was dead too.”


	12. Fair 'n Square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of feels upcoming. Sweetness, but brief allusion to suicide (in case it's a trigger for anyone out there).

The tepid water beat at Maka’s curled spine. Her finger traced the nail bed of her big toe, bringing a tinge of brown to the water as the dirt soaked away.  _ Don’t cry _ , the order resounded in her head. She tilted back, letting the water saturate her hair and sprinkle on to her cheeks, becoming the tears she refused. Even as the water lost its heat, she stayed still, letting the ache in her neck overcome the one in her heart.

With cool skin fighting the humid air, Maka tossed on a t-shirt and shorts, pausing to soak in the very breath of the house.  _ I wonder: when was the last time I heard Papa’s footsteps? Last night, maybe? Maybe _ . That word sat bitterly, making her lips purse tightly as the trapped air burned in her chest. She made slow work of the stairs, letting each creak squeal in hopes it would bring some burst of life from one of the rooms. Instead, it echoed off into still silence.

The kitchen at least brought the automaticity of the morning, putting the kettle on and flitting from cabinet to pantry for cup and tea. The water left to boil, Maka leaned back against the counter, taking her phone from her pocket and dialing Marie. Rings trilled off with only the prerecorded mildness of her voice coming back:  _ “You’ve reached Marie Stein, leave a message.” _

Maka sucked in air, forcing sweetness, “Just calling to see if you needed me today, but it’s early. If you get a minute, come over? Or just text me. Love you.” She tapped the red circle on the screen before abandoning the technology to the counter. She glanced at the kettle which gave no hint of steam yet before letting her eyes linger over the kitchen to find something to occupy her. Maka should have been careful what she wished for since as her glance moved around the room she found a box sitting on the dining room table that hadn’t been there the night before. 

She approached it slowly before grabbing the note that stuck out of the cardboard folds.

_ Maka -  _

_ Found some Mom stuff. Decide what you want to keep.  _

_ Love - Papa _

Her fingers clawed around the paper, giving it the same treatment as her heart.  _ Like she’s dead. Like her things have no space here. Like she’s never coming back.  _ The message began to shriek in her hand as it ripped.  _ Decide what I want to keep? What about what you want to keep, Papa? _ She threw the note to the floor as she rushed to the sink, clutching into the porcelain as long restrained tears won the fight to course down her cheeks.

* * *

All of him was pins and needles. Soul could barely look at Reggie- refusing to acknowledge the beaming glow that had held strong on the boy’s face all morning and was threatening to burst as they walked towards the  _ Songbird Mansion. _ While Reggie’s part of the visit was to be steeped in adoration to be declared with a gift safely tucked in the little boy’s pocket that now stretched to the seams, Soul still hadn’t settled into his part.

_ I told Kilik to forget it. _ Somehow he could feel Nana Rung’s obstinance from here, knowing that no message passed down the line would stop her from what she wanted.  _ So I still have to ask, don’t I? And…  _ The final idea had kept him awake from twilight to sun-up, mouth forming words that had little practice coming to his mind let alone his lips.  _ Thank you. I’m sorry. You were right. _ He still hadn’t found any which way to arrange them, to say them without just spitting them out simply. All of it was bitter poison, sapping him of power and sense.

As they approached the back of the house, Soul’s eyes hit the window to the kitchen, widening at the sight.

Framed there was Maka Albarn, that stubborn, headstrong fighter of a girl, drowning in her own tears.

_ She’s gonna need you _ , echoed from Nana Rung’s mouth to each corner of his mind.

Soul stopped, instantly dropping his head so that when Reggie’s attention snapped to him it stayed there, not following line of sight to that sorrowful picture. “Reggie, I forgot somethin’.”

“What?” Reggie reflexively put his hand to his pocket to check for his own important something, just enough relief hitting him by feeling the box but worry sprouting at the state of Soul’s face.

“I meant to bring some of those biscuits Granmama had Melanie make yesterday,” Soul was entirely sure he was dooming his nephew.  _ But getting a mouthful from Granmama for stealin’ biscuits is a thousand times better than seein’ that face. _ “Think you can go back and get some?”

Soul feared the flash of skepticism that painted a wrinkle in Reggie’s eyebrows. “What if Granmama catches me? I thought you said we can’t talk about Ms. Albarn.”

“Tell ‘er they’re for me,” Soul produced something close to an easy chuckle. “Tell ‘er I’m out runnin’ and got hungry, tired. She’ll let you have ‘em, you’ll just have to listen to her complain for a good ten minutes.”

Reggie fidgeted, heels tipping as if refusing the urge to step forward.

“Get goin’.” He punctuated with a flick of his chin, watching the indecision flutter away from the boy at the order. Each one of Reggie’s stomping steps spelled out the disgruntled argument Soul would get later, but they moved forward nonetheless. Soul split with him, still walking towards the house but forcing his eyes to avoid the window, simply watching his steps as they moved from grass to the wood planks of the deck. He knocked on the open screen door. “Ms. Albarn.”

All he heard was her breath catch from inside and the water suddenly turning on with a rushing hiss.

Soul opened the door, letting it clap behind him as he stepped onto the linoleum.

Maka had splashed her face with cold water for all the good it would do, eyes still puffy with cheeks tinted a blotchy pink. “I didn’t say you could come in,” she snapped.

“Well, manners aren’t my strong suit,” Soul muttered. “You alright?”

“That’s a stupid question,” erupted from her with an entirely unexpected rage, both parties startling at the volume. Maka clapped a hand over her eyes, uselessly swiping at the sockets to get rid of their saturation. “Just go away.”

Soul cleared his throat, feet and mind with no intention to move. “Reggie’s only going to be kept busy for fifteen minutes- can’t guarantee much more than that unless Mama’s in one of her moods. That’s fifteen minutes you’ve got to yell at me, Ms. Albarn. Can’t say it’ll be your only opportunity, but I’ll take whatever screamin’ you’ve got if it means you’ll have a clear face so Reggie can give you the gift he’s been dyin’ to.”

“It’s not like you  _ care _ .” Maka’s accusation fell to the sink as her eyes turned back there, unable to look at the disarming nature of his stare. 

_ Not like it matters to  _ you, spat from Blake’s mouth again.

“I’m willin’ to listen,” he murmured.  _ Because what matters to me is that Reggie doesn’t hurt. Seein’ you hurt would do that, so it’s just me takin’ care of Reggie, s’all. _

The pause was only filled by the squeak of her fingers against the sink as her hands clutched desperately. It wasn’t until he started the steps forward that the rest of her clenched just as tightly, shoulders tensed as she turned defensively towards him. Soul only sidestepped her, moving to the bubbling kettle as he turned off the burner. He slipped the kitchen towel off its hook before folding it to keep from searing off his fingers as he poured the steamy liquid into the strainer filled with tea.

“Have a seat,” Soul ordered.

Maka only turned to him.

Soul was incredibly busy watching the leaves unfurl. “Go on.”

A wordless scream wanted to rattle from her chest but the only thing she could manage was a trembling breath before she moved to the table, sinking back into the seat to stare at the box in front of her. She didn’t dare look at him, instead listening to the clink of dishes and soft huffs from his labor. Finally he slid a cup in her line of sight before sitting in the chair next to her, elbows on the table as he cradled a cup of coffee that Spirit must have left on warm between both of his hands.

The beats thundered, blood feeling thicker with each pulse.  _ I’m drowning. I’m drowning and dying and- _

“Go on,” he repeated as his eyes focused on the top of the liquid.

“Why do we…?” Maka’s voice croaked from the force held at bay. “How can someone just pretend that someone else doesn’t exist?” When his only answer was the natural exchange of air, Maka let the rest start to slip. “Forgetting them, letting them go, doesn’t  _ make _ them gone. They’re a ghost that haunts you no matter what but somehow-  _ somehow  _ I don’t think she haunts him,” seethed from between Maka’s teeth. “I don’t understand why it’s  _ me _ ! It’s his fault-  _ his fault _ but who suffers? It’s just not  _ fair _ .” There was a terrifying tremor from her gut up to her throat, forcing the dangerous start, “Why can’t he be the one-?”  _ Who walks. Who slips into the twilight that steals away all my hopes for the future? _

“Good question,” Soul grunted before pausing for a sip of his coffee, letting it rest back on the table to warm his hands. “Can’t say I haven’t asked it a few times.”

“It doesn’t help,” Maka murmured mournfully, “because the answer is always the same.”

He tapped his finger to the table thoughtfully, creating a tempo that echoed her heart. It was a slow journey but the beat eventually traveled to the corner of the box giving a hollow quality that unsettled her. “What’s in there?”

“Exactly what he wants to forget,” she whispered with more than a hint of venom.

The motion stopped, leaving silence before his question, “You look in there yet?”

“No, but…” Maka shook her head swiftly. “Again, why do  _ I _ have to?” 

A thoughtful hum came from him, finally breaking Maka’s will and making her eyes drift to him. He’d abandoned one side of the coffee mug, instead putting a glowingly warm hand to his cheek as he leaned on his elbow to coolly assess her. “Sorry to say, Ms. Albarn, but you may have brought this on yourself.”

“What?” She was trying to spit that but his glare was leaving her confused and breathless.

“Can’t say I know you all that well,” he shrugged, “but give anyone five minutes with you and if they haven’t realized your courage I’d say they’ve got the IQ of a bathmat.” He let an easy laugh rumble in his chest and Maka’s question was answered, that musical quality a perfect echo of Wes. “First woman who’s ever put me in my place without battin’ an eye. No one’s ever accused me of havin’ a ‘ _ testosterone-fueled ego’ _ before. Can’t say I expect that’s the last time you’ll do it either.”

It was the weakest of laughs but she still breathed it into existence, utter surprise welling up in her chest as that strengthened his smile.

“But, sorry to say,” his smirk drifted away as he let his eyes drop, “the stronger you are- the more you show them you can take it, the more they dish out.” The tapping started again and the new nervousness of it trembled through the table to her hands which were now splayed across the wood. “And I get it, you can’t let ‘em see the cracks, but… maybe pickin’ one person to show those to will make it easier to have ‘em- easier to patch ‘em up. ‘Cause you can do that on your own, Ms. Albarn, that’s for sure, but the first part, the lettin’ it go, that you need someone else for.” 

Maka slid her hand over to the box, letting it run up the side until she could grasp the lid. She pulled it closer and pushed it into his drumming fingers. “Can you empty it?”

“Out on the table?” he murmured.

“Yes.” She held her breath.

Each object emerged with a steady slowness. It was hodge-podge, odds and ends that didn’t necessarily draw an entire picture of her mother. Instead of each item, she watched his reaction but found just that blank disinterest, fingers not trembling nor mouth pressed in any particular expression. Maka tried to leech that from him, finding success until the jewelry box appeared in his hand. There was nothing ornate about it, a simple hand carved pine box with dented hinges that made the lid settle just right of center. Even though she tried to catch it by sending her teeth into her tongue, the stuttering breath left her.

Soul paused with daring fingers touching the lid. With no objection sounding from her, he opened it with delicate reverence. His eyes fell on a few pieces, none of them standout or even close to the opulence his mother had lining her drawers. The earrings were all small, barely more than studs and the pair of necklaces were only adorned with one small pendant each, a pearl here and then an emerald there. At first glance, the last thing in the box was nothing more than a plain gold ring and while manners should have stopped him, Soul reached in and fixed the tiny circle in between his fingers. 

It was the inside that filled him with an inquisitive wonder that almost moved his voice to speak. Etched carefully and with almost impossible precision were tiny characters that Soul could give absolutely no meaning to but was still enamored with the quality. “It was my grandmother’s,” Maka’s voice broke his concentration on the fine lines. “It’s her name and… well, I don’t honestly know. Mama just kept it in this box.”

“If it’s Japanese, you could ask Reggie’s tutor, Azusa. Pretty sure she reads and writes it.” He twirled the metal between his fingers. “She ever wear it?”

“No…” Maka’s eyebrows furrowed suddenly, “Why don’t you call her Ms. Yumi?”

Soul cleared his throat, “No particular reason.”

Maka leaned closer to him, trying to make her accusing glare the only thing he could see. “Like there’s  _ no particular reason _ you insist on calling me Ms. Albarn.”

“No particular reason,” Soul echoed before making that rumble in his throat again. He rolled the ring one more time, “Maybe…”

Maka waited patiently for her answer, but wasn’t entirely surprised as he veered.

“Maybe instead of lettin’ ‘em haunt you, you keep ‘em with you. There’s a difference between walkin’ with them rather than lettin’ them stalk behind.” His eyes still refused to see her reaction, instead watching as he moved the ring towards her hand, letting it hover over her finger. “Maybe, we can’t forget because they have to live somehow, and bein’ a memory’s better than nothin’ at all.” He tapped the ring to her nail when the reality filtered through the wall of concentration built around his words. In a panic, he dropped it next to her hand as he pulled entirely back. “Or maybe I’m just full of shit,” he let out a shaky laugh as he could look no where else but his coffee cup.

None of his anxiety reached her, Maka’s mind still clouded with the idea he’d planted.  _ On the surface, doesn’t that just sound perfect? But he doesn’t know- he has no idea that I  _ am  _ walking with her. I’ll end up where she is sooner or later. _ There was no stopping the new spill, fresh saltwater drifting down her cheeks.

“I’m- I’m sorry, Ms. Albarn,” he murmured weakly.

“It’s not your fault,” she groaned as she leaned forward and slid her face into her hands.

Soul lifted his hand, letting it hover next to her shoulder, ready to suck in a breath and force the connection when the screen door slammed. “You made her cry!” Reggie instantly accused as he jumped between the two of them.

“Oh, Reggie,” Maka managed a wet laugh as she tried to wrap an arm around him. “Don’t get worked up. Soul-”

“Made her cry,” Soul sighed out. “Can’t help myself, Reggie. Ms. Albarn is just too easy to tease.”

“Uncle!” Reggie huffed as he pushed into Soul’s arm, creating an acceptable distance between the two. “How could you? You’re so mean!”

Maka hated the quality of the smile that came to Soul’s face, a bitter shadow to the curl. “Mhm, the worst. You better defend her, Reggie. She’s gonna need it.”

Reggie turned to Maka, quickly partially cupping her wet cheeks in his hands. “I’m sorry for him, Ms. Albarn!”

“Reggie,” Maka trembled out his name over a laugh. “Soul didn’t-”

“Ask you to apologize,” Soul cut her off as he prodded Reggie in the back. “And I’m not sorry- not a lick. Now, give her your gift.”

Maka blinked at Soul before turning confused eyes back to Reggie. “A gift?”

“For taking me!” Reggie beamed as he released her face and started to dig into his pocket.

“But…” Maka looked to Soul again only to find him shaking his head.

“Don’t bother, can’t be convinced otherwise.” Soul let out a rough sigh as he tousled Reggie’s hair. “Not to mention Wes has been a bit too encouragin’ on that front.” That had barely snuck out of the side of Soul’s mouth as he tried to draw his attention back to his coffee. “Anyway, enjoy your visit. Thanks for the coffee.” He only let his eyes linger on the liquid for one more forlorn moment before he was up and turning back to the door.

“You don’t have to go,” Maka tried to call after him but all she ended up doing was yelling at the screen door.

“Ms. Albarn, I really,  _ really  _ am sorry,” Reggie murmured as he sent a disgruntled look in the direction of Soul’s exit. “May I hug you? Please?”

Even with her growing smile, the burn of tears came back to her eyes. “Of course, Reggie.” The permission was barely off her lips before he was climbing into her lap, throwing tight arms around her neck.

“It’s alright,” Reggie whispered. “Don’t cry anymore, please.”

“I think I’m fine for right now.” Maka ran her fingers through his hair before one more squeeze to steal another breath’s worth of warmth.  _ I just wish…  _ Her eyes drifted to the door again, letting her thoughts hit the screen.  _ I wish he hadn’t left. He didn’t… why does it feel like he thinks he did something wrong? _ “So show your uncle a little mercy. I don’t think he was being mean, but I’ve had a sad morning. Do you have days like that? When you wake up sad?”

“No,” Reggie replied as he pulled away from her, looking up wide-eyed at her. “Uncle- um…” Reggie hummed out the consonant before jumping to attention. “That’s his punishment!”

Maka shook her head slowly as she pressed out a frown. “He doesn’t need a punishment, Reggie…”

“He hates telling secrets,” Reggie urged, “so that’s his punishment. One of his secrets! He woke up sad this morning too. You can tell because he lets me lay in his bed. I think he had a fight with Papa because they’re not looking at each other right now.”

Maka sighed, “Alright, that’s punishment enough, I think.”  _ You were hurting, but you came here, sat and listened to me?  _ “Reggie, you should go back with your uncle today.”

“But, Ms. Albarn!” Reggie was instantly catapulting into complaint, resting his head against her shoulder to look at her pleadingly. “I needed to see you! I told you I have a gift.”

“I appreciate that,” Maka murmured as she smoothed his hair again, “and I’m thankful for the thought but…”  _ What if he needs to take his own advice? Who does he have? Who other than Reggie and would he even…?  _ Maka watched the dismay on her own features as they reflected in Reggie’s. “I’ll take my gift, and then you can name  _ one _ thing you want to do, but after, you have to promise me you’ll spend the rest of the day with your uncle.”

Heavy skepticism furrowed his brow before he went digging in his pocket to fish out a box that he placed with gentle ceremony in her palm. “I don’t know what you like… but this is one of my favorites, and Uncle said if it’s important to you and the other person likes you, it’ll be important to them.”

“Wise words,” Maka tried to nod with solemnity, but found her breath fluttering uneasily at the words. She snuggled him closer so that she could reach her arm around to upend the top, displaying a whirled snail  shell . The golden lines trembled over the off white curves, leaving Maka mesmerized as a smile filled with utter sweetness was taking hold of her. “Oh, Reggie, it’s beautiful.” Gushing wasn’t difficult, the charm of it striking her better than any piece of jewelry that must have previously lived in that box.

“We have lots,” Reggie’s voice overflowed with his pent-up excitement, “but this one’s my favorite.”

“Where did you get it?” Maka jostled him slightly again so she could bring the smooth shell into her palm to roll it between her fingers.

“Papa said it was from the Gulf!” There was no stopping him now, an overflow of words fighting for delighted supremacy on his tongue. “He said Mama used to go at least once a month and come back with a bag of shells every time and she would make things with them or give them away and some she would keep. Like this one! This one was in the box- the special box, so I picked it for you.”

The revolution of the tiny treasure between her fingers stopped, her eyes coming to Reggie’s joyous face. “It was your mama’s?” 

“Yes, Mama’s special collection. That’s what Papa calls it. He lets me look- not touch- but look, and he said I could have one to give you.” His tiny fingers eased in between hers, touching at the smooth surface that peeked through. “I think it’s special, and you do, too, don’t you, Ms. Albarn?”

“Very special,” Maka cooed back.  _ As special as you are, Reggie.  _ “I have an idea!” Maka motioned him off her lap before standing and grabbing his hand. “Let’s find a book that can show us what kind of shell this is. We’ll learn where it came from- what little creature had their home here.”

Without even an ounce of objections, Reggie followed.

* * *

Soul laid on his stomach, eyes focused on the only disruption to the pale blue of the comforter. It was the first time the tiny thing had probably seen sunlight since Reggie was born, its existence now just regulated to the damnation of keeping company with dust in the back of his nightstand. Looking at it brought her back.  _ But isn’t that what I said? Walkin’ rather than stalkin’. So lookin’ at it… lookin’ at it should bring her memory, not her ghost. _ There wasn’t a drop of conviction in those words and as his finger touched the spiny tip of the seashell, his chest tightened until breath was a long distant memory.

* * *

The rest of the day had been lake water still, nothing churned to produce any interest for Maka. In the lull, her mind kept touching on the image, the trifecta now sitting on her bedside table. A flower, a shell, a ring sitting in a triangle, a memorial to Soul’s words that also echoed in her head.

_ Maybe, we can’t forget because they have to live somehow, and bein’ a memory’s better than nothin’ at all. _

It was still daylight when she returned to stare at them from her spot stretched out on the bedspread. They glistened in the midday sun that baked hot through the windows, giving a halo to each. It didn’t feel strange to miss Reggie in that moment, but when Soul’s face came back to her mind, that bitter smile that ate away at his face while his nephew admonished him, a new breed of something so forlorn started to gnaw at her gut. She reached towards the table, finger first tapping to the hard shell before easing around it to bring it to her palm. Closed in her fist, she pulled it towards her, feeling the urge to press it to her chest.

_ I don’t know you, but I wonder what you were like. _

_ What happened to you? _

_ You must have loved Reggie, didn’t you? So how could you have…? _

While the shell traced lines in Maka’s grip, she closed her eyes.


	13. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with special art included by the wonderful sahdah (insta: Sahra.mick, tumblr: sahdah)

The odd twitter of that mysterious bird was morphing, joined by tinny feedback of a voice that did nothing but vivify the sound in her ears. Her sight was blackened, her lids covering any hope for a vision to accompany the noise with no strength to lift them. At the same time, her feet were steadily moving forward, propelling her step by dewy step into the darkened room of her mind. _It’s a she…_ The pitch was enough to tell her, but it was the motherly fingers smoothing over the edges of her hair that solidified it. Maka wanted to will her fingers up, to disengage those tender brushes, but molasses muscles locked them at her side.

The closer she got the more the sound garbled like a dial set between stations, each urgent step forward settling the call further into static while the volume started to swell around her. With the cacophony echoing in her ears came frost inching up her skin, the pinpricks of slowing blood starting in her legs. Still, her feet moved forward, possessed with the need to drown in the sound and feel it reverberate deep in her bones so that the message could come like Morse code to her mind.

_... Me…_

_... Me…_

_... Me…_

It was a middle note, not following ‘ _do-re’_ but surely the start of a plea that was coming through as an ache in her chest. The air was thin, making the pain blossom into an exquisite agony between her ribs. Just as her mouth opened to try to bring oxygen in to replace the burn, the water flooded in.

The discordance broke, a man’s unintelligible yell replacing it as Maka opened her eyes to the glassy top of the water, her hair a dripping, tangled halo around her. Grime and bile sputtered from her lips as the hands at her elbows jutted her backwards.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” There was no hope to pull enough air in to construct a reply and Maka could only turn her head to catch that horrible twisted face of rage glaring down at her. “Do you know what you were doing?” Those demon eyes burned at her as fingers dug into her frigid skin to shake her and break her against the surface of the water.

“Wes!” A second desperate scream cut in from the side, making Maka’s head loll to meet the mirror of the face above her, but instead of fury, panic was written in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing to her?”

“ _Me?_ ” Wes’s voice broke but his grip did not as he dragged Maka closer to the shore. “She was-”

“Let go of her,” Soul bellowed as he met his brother at knee-height water and pulled Maka into his arms. “Ms. Albarn?” A shaky hand smoothed her damp bangs, pulling away from the urge to look at her face. _Those eyes- what if they’re glassy, full of water, full of-_ That beast was squeezing his insides, urging up a near gasp. _Don’t. Don’t think about it. Not now- not fucking now!_

“Soul, you can’t honestly-”

The start of that cry of innocence was enough to snap Soul from the pull of the memory. “Wes,” he instantly hissed back. “Get back in the fucking house. Make sure Reggie stays-”

But the warning came too late. “Papa?” the sweet little voice filled with just as much alarm gripped Soul’s heart.

“Fuck,” Soul groaned as he looked down at the stunned, dizzy green eyes before shooting a glare back at his brother. “Take Reggie inside. Now, Wes!”

A bitter sigh expelled from Wes’s mouth as he sloshed back towards the shore, grabbing the protesting little boy. “But Papa, Ms. Albarn-”

“Hush, Reginald.”

Soul barely heard the exchange over the thundering of his pulse, and he could only summon the words weakly to his lips: “Hold on, Ms. Albarn.” It seemed effortless the way he scooped her into his arms, drenching him entirely with the dregs of the lake.

Maka tucked her face to his shoulder, focusing on drawing in each painful breath. Her lungs were raw but the memory of those searing eyes, the furious words with that expression so like the one in front of her now was the real wound. “Wes…” she gritted out.

He grimaced. “I’m… I’m sorry if…”

Maka lifted a shaking hand, frigid fingertips tapping to his lips to stop the spill before falling back exhausted to her lap.

He shook his head, trying to dissipate the swelling feeling that accompanied the thought: _Why do those freezing fingers still feel warm on my skin?_ That urged his feet forward, bringing her to the back stoop as quickly as his legs would allow. Soul placed her against the stone stairs, taking one last moment to watch her breathe and reassure himself that she was still with him. His hand hit the knob, the brass sticking. “It’s locked. I’ll go around the front.”

Maka only nodded, watching his steps move with urgency as he disappeared around the side of the house. _Did I lock the door?_ Her eyes glanced at it as if it would spell out the reality or play back the moments that came before her impromptu swim. _Where did I start and stop? My control versus… whose? The way Wes looked, the way Soul looked. It’s not just dirt stained feet anymore._ As if her face was not saturated enough, a wave of salt water hit her cheeks. _I’m just like her, aren’t I?_

She wanted to clench her fists but instead of finding weakness as the resistance, it was an object in her palm. As her brain still churned, soaked with lake water, she slowly unfurled her fingers to find Reggie’s beautiful gift pressed into blanched skin. _Why?_ her frantic mind started to scream. _How? I- I fell asleep with this, didn’t I? But how am I still holding it?_

“Ms. Albarn?” Soul was crouched in front of her now, a struggling hand wavering close to her face. “The doors are all locked,” he murmured softly as his hand fell back to his side, the purpose he had with his fingers lost with his nerve. “Is there an extra key?”

Maka shook her head slowly as she closed her fist around the shell again, hoping to mask its very existence. She brought the other hand up to smear moisture and grime across her cheeks. “You could… go get Marie, but she’ll…” Maka was looking down at her t-shirt, tangled with muck and weeds. “Please don’t get her.”

Soul stood slowly with a sigh, eyeing the side of the house. “Stay here.” He moved along the windows until he came to the trellis. His hand slipped into one of the slats, and started the achingly slow climb between the ivy.

Maka’s eyes bugged, and if her legs weren’t still entirely jelly, she would have shot up on her feet. “Soul!”

“Yellin’ at me is just askin’ for me to fall,” he called back between grunts. “Not the first time I’ve climbed a trellis, won’t be the last.” He reached the eave of the second floor balcony, floating his foot across the divide to meet it before grasping a hand onto the banister.

Maka breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared over the edge and started into the screen door that had been thankfully left unlocked. Her eyes moved towards the pane behind her, waiting for his fuzzy figure to appear on the other side of the distorted glass. He must have rushed because she was sure only one blink filled the time before he was there, easing open the back door and giving her a view of his saturated pants already starting to form puddles on the floor. 

“Can you stand?” Even though her affirmation was nothing more than a weak nod, his hands were on her, tucking at her waist and elbow to bring her upright and press her back to his chest. “Let me help you inside.” He walked her back, bringing their feet to squeak across the polished floor. “‘Course I’m makin’ a mess. What a guest. Sit.” He placed her gently in one of the worn chairs at the table. “Towels?”

“In the hallway,” she murmured back. “Closet on the left.” Her eyes turned back to the puddle on the floor and the second one growing under her chair. _How do I explain this? How do I when I don’t even know…_ Her fist pulsated around the shell again.

“Here,” Soul whispered softly near her ear as he placed the towel around her shoulder. The others he tossed to the floor, kneeling around the pile as he got to the work on the mess he’d made. His mind churned at the same time, the memory of Wes with his hands tightly clenched into her echoing achingly. “Can I… there’s gotta be someone I can get for you.”

“No,” she charged back instantly as she pulled the towel to swaddle her, trying to find some calm in it.

“At least Stein, to-”

“No.” This one warbled slightly and when he turned his gaze to her, he saw another wash of tears on her cheeks.

Again, the urge to reach for her left his hands floating above the towels uselessly. “If it’s about my brother- if you’re worried about gettin’ him in trouble-”

“It’s not that,” barely croaked from her throat before she dipped her face into the folds of the towel. 

“Please,” he hated the pleading in his voice. “If he hurt you-”

“It wasn’t his fault,” she moaned mournfully into the fabric. “Just please,” her voice hiccupped and she was forced to drop the obstruction or else her words would be lost. “Don’t tell anyone. _Please_.”

She missed his brow furrowing in the blur of her tears. _If it was Wes, why do you sound so guilty, Ms. Albarn?_ “Secrets don’t last long here,” Soul muttered back as he came to his feet. _And just what am I keeping?_

“I thought you were good at keeping them.” She attempted a weak smile, making him turn his head away from her as it fired something in his chest.

Silence gripped him, filled only with her breath and the pattern-less drip of water. His fingers clenched, the muscles creaking as crescent moons dented into his palm. “I’ll keep your secret, Ms. Albarn. On one condition.”

“What is it?” No hope lilted through her voice.

Regardless of her tone, a slow, soft smile started across his lips, not that signature smirk that she’d come to expect from him but maybe something more often seen by Reggie after Soul had scared away the monsters from under the bed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to send Reggie your way.”

“Oh, he saw that, didn’t he?” Maka groaned out as a shaky hand came to her hair. “Oh, Reggie! He must have been so scared! I’m so sorry, Soul, I’m-”

“Hey.” Soul surprised even himself, fingers no longer hesitant as they came to her shoulders, gently giving her an amiable shake. “No apologies, Ms. Albarn. I’m not sayin’ for him. I’m sayin’ if there’s ever been a good sick-nurse, it’s _Reginald Desjardins Evans_. Let me put him to work, keep him busy for the rest of the day.” He pulled his fingertips away slowly, brushing the towel into place as he withdrew. “Let him take care of you.”

Maka’s eyes danced over Soul’s face, watching his smile slip away just as his hands disappeared in his pockets. “Thank you, Soul.”

“S’nothin’,” he murmured as he turned on his heels, urging almost immediately towards the door. “If you need anything, send word through Reggie.”

“Soul-” but the door clapped shut on her call.

He had heard his name but fled from it. Once he was sure that she wasn’t opening the door, Soul broke out into a run, his wet pant legs slapping wildly as he bounded down the lane. _Let him take care of you_ , resounded back in his head, except it was the words that he wanted to say that spat back at him: _Let me take care of you._ He sprinted until his lungs burned, the sweat replacing the lake water on his skin. _Because you trust me, don’t you? You gave me a secret to hold and… fuck, I could give you a million in return. I almost- but I can’t-_ He punished that thought with another push, bringing him hurtling through the door.

“Reggie?” he started the breathless call as he flew up the stairs. While his feet slowed at his own door he bellowed again, “Reggie?” 

In reply his door opened, a raven head popping into view. “ _Sh-_ stop yelling. I _just_ got away from Papa.”

“Reggie…” Soul scooped him into a squeezing hug as his fingers pressed the messy hair from that little face. “You OK?”

“I was scared,” he murmured back. “Is Ms. Albarn alright?”

“Sort of,” Soul sighed as he let his forehead rest on Reggie’s long enough to suck in another breath. “You mind takin’ care of her? Same nursin’ as you would me, alright?”

“Yes!” Reggie urged excitedly as he wriggled out of Soul’s arms.

“Hold on!” Soul grabbed him by the back of this shirt before he could scuttle away. “Go get your backpack. You’ll need a few things.” His grasp turned into a push, getting the little boy out of the door. As soon as the pattering feet were receding, Soul moved over to his bureau and opened the top drawer, sliding forward his socks to uncover a lock box. While the lid creaked open, so did the door before little hands clasped around his knees. “Open it up.”

“What am I taking?”

“Few things,” Soul answered absently as he rummaged through the box. First it was a smaller tin that he placed gently at the bottom. “That’s tea from Nana Rung. Make her drink it. Don’t take no for an answer, got it?”

“Got it,” Reggie nodded.

Soul closed the box, slipping it back in his drawer before moving across the room to his nightstand with Reggie close on his heels. “Next, a few candies…”

“Candies?” Reggie perked.

Soul chuckled as he reached into the bag he’d hidden jammed between his bed and the stand. “Two for you, two for her.”

“Is _that_ where you hide it?” Reggie peeped over his shoulder.

“It _was_ ,” Soul laughed. “Not anymore now that the secret’s out. And one last thing, Reggie: Go get a few of your favorite books.”

“Books?” His forehead wrinkled.

“I know what I’m about,” Soul scolded as he took the bag from Reggie’s fingers. “Get goin’. At least three.” Reggie headed out again and Soul finally allowed himself to settle on the floor. He ran still trembling fingers through his hair, expelling one more sigh. _What else is there to give her?_ His mind was bounding across the options as the breath shuddered from his lips again. _And why won’t you let yourself do it? Why didn’t you just stay and make sure that she’s alright?_ The memory of lake water eyes threatened behind his lids as he sucked in a third shaky breath. _She’s alive- so why didn't you help her? Because getting close to her-_

“Uncle?” Reggie was slipping the books between his hands as Soul snapped to attention.

“Good job, Reggie,” Soul murmured. “You’ll take her everything. Stay with her until dinner time, do you understand?”

That little brow furrowed again and Soul found himself pressing a finger to it so that it dissolved with a giggle. “That long?”

“That, or until she kicks you out,” Soul laughed softly.

His feet shuffled nervously into the carpet before worried eyes, the same scarlet color as his own, burned back at him. “Uncle… is she sick like when you get sick?”

“Not like that, Reggie.” Soul took a moment to soothe him, running his hand over his brow to push back the mess of hair again. “Just… scared. Maybe a little sad, too. You know what to do for that, right?”

This brought a little surety to Reggie’s face along with an easy smile. “Yeah. I can help.”

“I know you can.” Soul left him with one more soft swipe of his hand. “Get a move on. Do whatever she asks you to do; no arguin’.”

“I never argue,” he cooed back.

“Ah, liar,” Soul chuckled before standing and egging Reggie forward towards the door. “I’ll forgive you this time, just take good care of Ms. Albarn.” He shut the door after the boy disappeared, leaning his head against the dead wood while hoping it’d bring some cool to his brow and some air to his lungs. _Oh, Ms. Albarn, I’ll sure as hell keep your secrets. Just like I’ll keep my own._


	14. An Apple A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You all are going to hate me for the size and content of this chapter. Flame me.

Treachery was the only word resounding in Maka’s head as she sat in the waiting room. Besides during the years apart, Stein had been the only doctor she’d trusted with everything from toenail fungus to birth control- though that conversation had certainly left her unable to look him in the eye for some time. Trusting him was something that came easily because no matter the situation, Stein always offered honesty. There was no sugarcoating, no softening of blows, and Maka had always found it settled her more than any false comforts.

But now, as she stared at the unfamiliar name on the door, Maka was sure all she wanted was a lie.

_ I’m having trouble sleeping. _

She kneaded her fingers into the hem of her dress.

_ Just a prescription for something to  _ keep _ me asleep. _

The clock across the room ticked like a beating heart.

_ It’s the stress of college, of moving, of almost drowning in a lake because-! _

“Maka Albarn?”

She was on her feet immediately, head down and shuffling across the neutral gray carpet that brought her into a short hallway. The nurse guided her to the door on the left, opening it to reveal a pleasantly smiling blonde. “Hello, Ms. Albarn. May I call you Maka?”

“Please,” Maka murmured as she stepped in and the nurse closed the door on them. It was a homey room, the atmosphere somewhere in the gray area between a living room and hospital sterility. 

“It’s your first visit,” her pleasantly smoky voice eased over Maka as those hard working fingers flipped over an empty chart. “You just moved here, correct? But I do remember your father- from years ago, of course. We all went to high school together…”

Maka tried not to bristle at the claim as she sat down in the chair opposite of the woman. “I’m sorry, he probably mentioned it and I forgot, Dr-” She paused to slip a hand over her forehead, trying fruitlessly to massage out the information. “I’m sorry, I- I just haven’t been sleeping so sometimes names get fuzzy.”

“Dr. Delacroix,” came back with a comforting, motherly lilt. “And I’m going to assume that’s why you’re here. Is it that you can’t fall asleep?”

“Stay asleep,” Maka corrected quickly. “I just- between school and the move, I’ve been so anxious that I just can’t stay asleep,” she continued the line she’d practiced a million times in her head, “so if I could just get something to help me relax.”

“There’s a few things we can try,” Dr. Delacroix nodded with pleasant surety. “Let’s just do a regular exam and then we’ll talk about the options.”

Maka kept a death grip on the monotony of the physical, finding at least some reprieve in the routine. It was nothing more than the regular slew of questions, all of them innocuous and came with easy answers that acted as a slight salve for the wound that kept coming with Stein’s name in the back of her head. Dr. Delacroix seemed nothing in comparison, in fact, more of a blank slate than anything else.  _ I wonder why that is- why she seems just normal. No quirks, nothing interesting, just forgettable. _ She let that thought be a distraction.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Dr. Delacroix finished as she soothed a soft hand down Maka’s arm, “but you said it’s been stressful?”

“Well…” There should have been some kind of comfort in that touch but Maka found it hollow though she still forced a smile. “I think I’m just having trouble settling in. I hope once school gets further along I’ll be  _ fine _ but not sleeping has been making it hard to get things done, so…”

“Absolutely,” Dr. Delacroix chimed as she waved an understanding hand. “So I think I’ll prescribe a sleep aid to start and if that takes care of that, good, and if not, you’ll come back and we’ll try the next step.” Her smile was easy, all lips and no teeth. “I’ll call it into the pharmacy- it’s just down the street from here. The advantages of a small town, you know?” Amiability leapt from her mouth in a small laugh.

“Thank you…” Maka refused the urge to nervously work at the gown.

“Don’t worry, Maka.” Dr. Delacroix let one last touch come to Maka’s shoulder. “Just take care. I’ll see you soon.” The woman started for the door, finger hesitating at the knob before she turned back to Maka, her mouth showing a little more teeth. “Say hello to your father for me. He’d probably remember me better by my maiden name- Medusa Gorgon.”

Maka’s smile back was nothing more than obligatory, dreading having any such conversation.  _ I’m sure Papa knows lots of women by their maiden names. _ As Dr. Delacroix closed the door, Maka was trapped somewhere between a sob and a scream.

* * *

The office chair protested squeakily as Medusa leaned back and brought the receiver to her ear in time to hear the click of the other end connect. “Crona.”

“H-hello,” a meek voice stuttered over the line.

“I have a prescription I need you to fill,” Medusa cooed. “Miss Maka Albarn needs some sleeping pills, but we’ll need to discuss the branding. Maka has a particular condition so I think you’re going to have to mix something special for her, alright?”

“I-” cracked from the other end.

“Alright?” Medusa challenged.

“Y-yes. Of course.”

“Good.” Her voice was oily slick, her smile like the split lips of a snake.


	15. One Way or Another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: more insinuations of suicide
> 
> with special art included by the wonderful sahdah (insta: Sahra.mick, tumblr: sahdah)

Soul was looking at the face of a woman entirely ready to murder and all of his faculties besides the grip on his bourbon had left him. While Maka had entered with green eyes ferociously glowing, when she settled on him that glare became an inferno. There was a distinct pause, his pulse louder than anything else in his ears even with the ringing of the regular techno _bullshit_ they played, before Maka started steps choppy with rage in his direction. He didn’t attempt what he knew would be nothing more than a croak of her name and instead offered half of a slick smile.

“Have you seen him?” she spat.

Each word was a dangerous game, but Soul couldn’t help but play. “Who?”

“My father.” Maka singularly focused on him, making the sweat break out on Soul’s neck even in the purr of the air conditioning. “You know, red hair, green eyes, _lecherous_ smile.”

Soul couldn’t resist the rise of his eyebrows and paid for it with a sharp honing of her glower. “Can’t say I’ve met ‘im, Ms. Albarn, but if you think he’s here…” Soul smoothly glided his eyes back to the bar, catching the burly man’s across the counter. “Free, got a question.”

A wolfish smile turned towards the two of them before sauntering over. “Maybe I got an answer.”

“Red hair, green eyes, Albarn- know ‘im?” Soul grumbled.

More teeth seemed to peek out from behind his lips as his smile widened. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Soul sucked his teeth while he shook his head. “Listen, tonight’s already been expensive enough as it is, don’t tell me you expect some kind of money to change hands when it’s his darlin’ daughter askin’.”

Free flicked disinterested eyes in Maka’s direction before settling back on Soul, staring expectantly.

“Asshole,” Soul muttered before tilting forward enough to get a hand on the wallet sticking out of his back pocket.

“What are you doing?” Maka grabbed him quickly by the elbow, leaving him awkwardly chicken-winged.

“Gettin’ you your info,” Soul griped, “so why don’t you stop shovin’ my hand up my ass.”

Free chuckled while Maka refused to relent, “Save your money.” Before Soul could even retort, she was leaning across the bar top, all the fire fizzling to an even more striking icy glare. “What room is that red-haired buffoon in? And don’t _try_ to tell me he’s not here. Idiot’s been charging the credit card so it’s _crystal_ clear this is his regular day.”

Once more, Soul got Free’s glance first, this time both men starting to thaw into grins. “Hey, Eruka!” Free tipped the shout over his shoulder towards the door Maka had only busted through a moment ago, entirely ignoring the young woman there who was now called to attention.

“What is it, Free?” She strolled over, leaning into the bar without any of Maka’s viciousness. She was lithe, with silky lavender-grey hair spilling out from underneath an orange beanie. By all accounts, none of her screamed ‘dancing girl’ especially in a black muscle tank, acid washed jeans, and combat boots.

“Need you to bounce Albarn from whatever room he’s in.” Free flicked a chin towards Maka. “Lady’s looking for him.”

“She’s a little young for him, isn’t she?” Eruka offered an appraising glance at Maka.

“I’m his daughter,” she corrected quickly. “And I’d appreciate it if-”

While Soul knew the motion was most certainly a death-wish, it didn’t stop him from popping a hand over Maka’s mouth. “Thanks, Eruka.”

Eruka smiled before she slipped off the bar. “Give me a minute!”

Maka batted his hand away before stubbornly planting in the seat next to him. “I wasn’t going to say anything _rude_.”

“Sure,” Soul chuckled out before blocking it with a sip of bourbon. He didn’t dare look past the ice cubes at her. “Whaddya need ‘im for anyways?”

That spurred a species of huff that brought a chill down his spine. “That is the _stupidest_ question.”

“‘m known for those,” he laughed again as he finally drew up the nerve to take a look. 

Maka was sitting with electrifying anger, ramrod straight, but her eyes were darting uncomfortably as she tried to avoid a myriad of pictures that brought nothing but discomfort: girls dancing on stage, sleazy patrons at the bar, and Soul looking at her with steady interest. “I don’t know-” there was a pause to bite her teeth into her tongue, seeing if it stopped the urge to spill to him but finding it only encouraging as the music droned on behind them. “He should be _home_ instead of here.”

“Got it,” Soul nodded as if it was the most sensible bit of information he’d received.

“And you-” Maka met his eyes and hated it instantly, finding no guilt or anxiety living in his features.

“Me?” Soul offered.

_What are you doing here?_ she wanted to screech but the answer was obvious. _Men don’t come here for the bourbon._

“Kitten!” A curvaceous woman, breasts barely covered by what could loosely be called a crop top threw her arms around Soul, stark white hair now at least giving her a little modesty.

“Ah-” Soul grimaced as he curled his spine, trying to get away from the contact. “Blair, cut it out.”

“Kitten, come on,” she cooed. “I’ve said it a million times: you don’t need to be in love for me to show you a good time! Oh!” As she tightened her grip, Blair brought sparkling gold eyes towards Maka. “You brought a date, kitten! Congratulations!”

“I’m _not_ his date,” Maka hissed. “And now I see _you’re_ busy so I’m going to-”

Soul forced his way out of Blair’s hold, knocking into Maka’s chair in the process, leaving him with a red face and an aching shin. “This is Blair, she owns this establishment and I guess it’s just about that time, isn’t it?”

“I’m ready for you, kitten!” Blair reached for him again but Soul just made it out of her clutches.

Maka huffed in disgust and while his sense should have been pushing for silence, Soul let it feed right into his own indignation. “You’re welcome to join, Ms. Albarn.”

“Albarn?” Blair perked. “That means you must be little Maka! Your Papa-”

For all his stutters and stops, this time the rise of Soul’s hand came smoothly, instantly shushing Blair’s gushing.

“Oh, kitten, didn’t mean to upset you,” she purred. “Let’s go. Time for your medicine.”

“Last call, Ms. Albarn,” Soul grumbled. He was jamming her between a rock and a hard place but something in that grimace of hers was egging him on. “Unless you want to wait out here alone for your Papa.”

That was a challenge, and Maka was a brawler, ready to fight. “I’m not here for _you_ and you can’t honestly believe I’d be interested in what goes on between _you_ and _her_.”

Soul paused, eyes flicking around the room for a moment. “Bet you would be,” Soul pressed back with a chuckle, “‘specially since it looks like Eruka’s come up dry.” He jutted his chin behind her, displaying the woman in question with innocent hands in the air.

“He left out the back a little while ago!” Eruka chimed.

A frustrated groan left her lips as she fidgeted on her feet.

“Come on, Ms. Albarn, I’ll buy you a palm readin’.” Soul left that as his final offer before nudging past Blair and starting for another room he knew all too well. The buzzing music, the bitter alcohol, the oversexualization oozing from every direction- it was all old news. It washed over him with just as much acknowledgement as the oxygen he pulled in for the next breath. _And now I’m bringin’ her into it. Just what the hell am I thinking?_ When his eyes flitted back to her, catching her following behind Blair, he hated that the answer instantly reared up in him: _She’s hurtin’._

“Did you seriously just say palm reading?” Maka finally piped up doubtingly as they reached the end of the long hallway of private rooms.

“Jus’ what I said,” Soul acknowledged before side stepping into the one marked _Office_ , leading the ladies into a lavishly unprofessional space with a deep purple couch for lounging rather than those distinctly uncomfortable waiting chairs and a desk that looked like it was currently acting as a candelabra rather than for anything work-related.

Perched on the window sill was a woman that definitely would get carded at any bar, a cute round face framed with bubble gum pink hair. She’d been scrolling through her phone, not even looking up from the glowing screen. “Hey, Soul.”

“Kim,” Soul offered just as much enthusiasm.

It wasn’t until Maka came in to view that Kim’s hand dropped to her lap, eyebrows popping up towards her hairline. “Who’s that?” As if she already knew the answer, Kim instantly added, “Did you _seriously_ bring a date here? Are you _stupid_ ? I get it- _you_ don’t want to fall in love but that doesn’t mean you should be making sure _she_ doesn’t.”

“Kim, Ms. Maka Albarn- Ms. Albarn, meet the thorn in my side, Kimial Diehl.” Soul waved an entirely unceremonious hand as he drew apathetic eyes back to Maka. “Palm reader and acid-tongued little _witch_.”

“You know I take that as a compliment,” Kim chimed back. “Also, _Ms. Albarn?_ Seriously? Is that one of your-”

Soul cleared his throat quickly, “I’m payin’ you to read her palm, not give me a jawin’.”

“Oh, _customer_ ,” Kim cooed. “Come here, _Ms. Albarn._ ” She threw one more mocking glance at Soul, meeting a fiery gaze that promised later retribution. 

“Call me Maka, please,” came the skeptical reply and Maka took the moment to let her eyes dart from each person in the room. Soul moved with automatic motions that still set her teeth on edge, especially as the buxom woman followed close behind him, delicate fingers teasing at the hair at the nape of his neck. He was swatting her away, more disgruntled muttering from him, but the idea that he was here- was _used_ to being here- clawed at her guts. _But aren’t they all just like Papa anyway? So why does seeing it- knowing it bother you?_

Kim was fluttering away from the window, hands outstretched and begging for Maka’s. “Well, give me that hand, Maka. If Soul’s paying, I’m doing a super long, extravagantly detailed-”

“Five minutes, _tops_ ,” Soul grumbled as he laid back on the chaise, his head lolling against the side to watch the two girls.

“Killjoy,” Kim spat before finally gathering up Maka’s hand in hers. “What do you want to know? I don’t _ever_ do death, but I can do fortune, career, or- _Oh!_ ” Kim snatched her fingers, bringing her aqua eyes to slowly follow the lines etched in skin. “Wow! The depth and length of your heartline is _amazing!_ ”

“Sounds romantic,” Blair cooed over her shoulder. She had moved to the cabinet, the soft clinks of bottles drifting from her direction.

“Technically,” Kim murmured as she followed along with her finger. “I mean, it depends on what you consider romantic. It just means-” A smile interrupted her words, one that trembled at the corners of her mouth before she continued. “Well, the depth is how important those kinds of relationships are to you- that you give your _entire_ heart in love and expect the same in return. And the length, well…” There was a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at Maka. “Your first love is going to be your only love.”

“What?” She stared down at her hand, trying to find that future there.

“You don’t have any breaks or forks,” Kim looked back down to her palm, drawing her attention to the line closest to her fingers with a gentle touch. “Means _one_ relationship and it practically snakes all the way around! Means _forever_.”

Maka laughed softly, her head shaking slowly, “I bet all the girls eat that up, huh?”

Kim raised her eyebrows, “I’m not kidding!”

“It’s OK,” she tried to reassure Kim as she pulled her fingers away, hiding that lie against her shirt. “I know that’s-” _A lie. Because how much longer do I have? How long until I’m just… just a ghost to someone else?_

“Kitten, did you ever let Kim look at your hand?” Blair interrupted Maka’s thought and the question brought her eyes to the _kitten_ in question.

Soul was still lounging but his eyes were intent on the ceiling, palms pressed protectively against his chest. “Not in’erested.”

“I’ll do it for free!” Kim leapt passed Maka on a crash course for the couch.

It was a game of chicken, Soul knowing his hands coming out from their spot would mean certain doom but Kim was ready to leap. For once, Soul didn’t flinch, waiting even as Kim had to barely catch herself on the arm of the chaise to stop from belly-flopping onto him. “Not in’erested,” he muttered again before tossing his head back. “You done yet?”

“Potion coming up!” Blair turned with an extra hop in her step, leaning over the side of the couch so her cheek was practically pressed against Kim’s. “Make sure to take it at the new moon or _else_!” While that should have been a threat it was nothing but song from Blair’s mouth, a sweetness that turned Soul’s face sour.

“Hopefully taste better this time,” he grumbled as he grabbed the vial. He slipped it into his jacket pocket before fidgeting for his wallet again. Maka noted the fullness and the way he easily thumbed through twenties until the bulk was considerably lighter. After handing it to Blair he nodded towards Kim. “Give ‘er what she wants from that.”

“So kind,” Blair cooed. “Anything else, kitten? Maybe a kiss?” Blair leaned closer but Soul turned to liquid, sliding down into the cushions until he’d slithered to the end of the sofa, depositing himself with a huff on the floor.

Against her will to be entirely angry, Maka laughed.

“Hush, you,” Soul spat as he stood up and fixed his shirt back into place. “I’m leavin’.”

“Nice to see you,” Blair’s singsong voice fluttered as she undulated her fingers in a wave. “And it was nice to meet you, Maka!” Soul practically shut the door on the name, leading Maka back through the dimly lit hallway. 

“So… palm reading and potions?” Maka offered as she matched his step.

“Jus’ so,” he nodded tersely.

Maka waited as they walked into the buzz of the main room, voices threatening to be drowned out by the constant thump of the music as bodies writhed in the background. It wasn’t until he led her out into the night that she dared to drop the incredulous question, “Seriously, that’s all you’re going to say?”

“See, now, I distinctly ‘member someone sayin’ that they weren’t interested in what goes on between _me_ and _her_ , so…” he brought a sly smile to her as he stopped short under the streetlight. The rest of the darkness pressed in on them as Soul studied her.

Maka crossed her arms and gave her eyes a roll for good measure. “Fine.”

“I’m not hearin’ anything different.” This time she could see his teeth, those fine edges gleaming from genuinely stretched lips.

She waited, tapping fingers against her arm.

He snorted into her pause, “I’m waitin’ for an apology, Ms. Albarn.”

“Then you’ll be _waitin’_ awhile,” she challenged.

His cheeks ached, and that fluttering was back in his chest, surely spurred by the bourbon and his continual lack of sustenance. “You’ll get nothin’ out of me ‘til I hear it.”

The foot tapping began and she stubbornly linked their eyes. “I guess you weren’t there for anything…” There was a simple list of synonyms: nefarious, sleezy, indecent, but each one she knew would just strengthen that smirk.

Soul simply raised his eyebrows and read her mind, letting his grin ache further along.

“You have to admit that sitting in a strip club-” One hand bridged between them as if to expel the sensibility of her statement but Soul didn’t eye or take it, still watching her face with a growing amusement. “What did you expect me to think?”

A slow roll of his shoulders was the only thing to fill his explanation.

She refused to waver even though her lip trembled.

Soul pressed air between his lips before jutting his chin back out towards the street. “Look, I’m hungry. You wanna eat?”

“I…” Maka glanced in the direction of his motion as if it gave her an answer and examined the mostly shadowy street. A few signs blinked _open_ , mostly bars but a few hole-in-the-wall joints that probably still served on paper plates. Not that she was such a princess that none of it appealed to her, but out there in the darkness was another worry, one on the tip of her tongue as she turned her glare back at him. “Why?”

“Because I’m human?” Soul griped back. “What, _Ms. Perfect_ , ya don’t get hungry? Get all your sustenance outta those books you’ve always got your nose in?”

“I do _not_ -” She started to argue but he was already turning on his heels, heading back the way they came towards the liveliness of the main street. With his shoulders slightly hunched, messy hair flopping with each step, there was a part of her yelling to let him go. _Go home, yell at Papa if he’s there, but don’t-_ don’t _… why?_ a smaller voice answered, and suddenly, even louder, _Who does he have?_ repeated in her head. “Slow down!” she yelled and watched his shoulders shake with shock as he sent startled eyes over his shoulder.

“Well, why the hell’re you takin’ so long then?” he barked back. “Whaddya even eat, anyway? Other than books, that is.”

“Alright, you made that joke once, now it’s _old_ ,” she muttered as she moved shoulder to shoulder with him. “I’m not picky.”

He snorted.

“I’m not,” she insisted.

“Whatever I pick you’ll just settle for?” He raised an eyebrow but only brought his eyes to catch her in the periphery. Each nerve was tingling, threatening to fire if he caught the entirety of her face.

“Consider _that_ your apology.” She nudged an elbow into his side and he covered the way his breath caught with a cough.

“Absolutely _not_ ,” he managed to squeeze out. “I know I’ll be waitin’ for it ‘til the day I die but I have my principles, Ms. Albarn.” There was a false puff of his chest to follow that, just enough to eke a soft laugh from her before he deflated with one of his own.

“Principles that make you sit in a strip club-”

“Nah-uh,” he snapped at her. “Tol’ you, not a peep on that ‘til I hear those three sweet little words from you.”

Maka huffed, “You’re an idiot.” 

“That’s technically four, and definitely not right,” he chuckled. “Come on, if ya eatin’, it’s po’boys.” As if it was Reggie as his side, Soul put a steadying hand to her elbow and moved her along a side street.

Her eyes momentarily sunk down to the touch, then snapped back to his face, noticing his entire lack of acknowledgement, just amiably fluttering through the conversation. His sudden ease bred something in her and she found her tongue lashing right back, “That’s sandwiches, right?” A small turn of satisfaction hit her gut as he grimaced.

“To call a po’boy a sandwich is to call filet mignon ground chuck.” 

“Are you speaking English right now?” She nudged him with her elbow and it was then that the touch seemed to snap to his attention, his hands instantly finding pockets instead of her skin.

“Can’t help it if you’re too mucha Yankee to have any sense,” he muttered before making one final turn. The storefront was brick, a building to be forgotten in a long line of much of the same. Inside was not much more impressive, those dated laminate bench seats with Formica tables that still had melted spots from the days of smoking indoors. “Henry,” Soul called out to an ancient man behind the counter.

“Ah, Solomon.” He leaned across the counter intently, eyes shining as he dipped from Soul to Maka. “And who is this beautiful young lady?”

“Maka,” she cut in, tired of her last name from his lips and knowing that was all that was coming.

“Pleasure, Maka,” Henry replied before turning an inquisitive glance back to Soul. “The usual?”

“And she’ll have the same.” Soul didn’t offer to room to argue as he slid into one of the booths and leaned back, cracking his spine over the plastic.

“What am I having?” Maka muttered as she slid in across from him, her fingers instantly tracing the lines of abuse on the tabletop.

“A culinary experience,” he chuckled with a sly grin still mostly aimed at the ceiling. “Best to have it now, before…”

“Before…?”

He leveled his head before giving one swift shake. “Magic words.”

She pursed her lips.

A throaty chuckle started from him again, “Ms. Albarn, you might jus’ be the most stubborn creature _alive_.”

“I think you’re trying to make that an insult but _I_ take it as a compliment,” she added a sweet sing-song to her voice, watching as it elicited more snickers from him. “But…” the itch of her curiosity was getting the better of her, storming an anxious torment in the back of her mind. “I’m sorry,” she said in the tiniest voice possible.

“Huh?” Soul dipped forward quickly, slapping his elbow on the table as he cupped his hand behind his ear. “Whas’at?”

“I said it,” she muttered.

“Said what?” He leaned just a centimeter closer.

Maka snapped out and grasped him by the earlobe, tugging him off balance as she rang out in his ear, “I’m sorry!”

“Fuckin’ hell!” Soul hissed as he clutched the side of his head, cooling the ringing of his ear against the laminate. “Jus’ as cruel as you are stubborn.”

“So, palm reading and potions?” she offered back without skipping a beat, her hand just tapping to the table next to his nose, awaiting an answer.

Soul sighed as he lifted his head to rub the damaged lobe, settling a grim frown at her. “When I called Kim a witch, I wasn’t jokin’.”

Maka expelled a slap of a laugh but when it hit him and no grin appeared, she furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m guessing not black cats and pointy hats.”

“Nah, though Blair does have one _hell_ of a mischievous black cat at home. The thing’ll bite yer ankles to pieces and then expect a pat on the head before you go,” he muttered. “But her and Kim both belong to one of the more well-known covens.” He was tracing every line of her face, hunting for the disbelief, the mocking that he knew would come. _She’ll laugh again. She’ll call me a fool like she should because I’m entirely gone, aren’t I?_

That wrinkle in her forehead only intensified. “How did you find them? I can’t imagine that they go around advertising.”

Soul tried to force the air back into his lungs slowly, no clear pop of disbelief splashing across his features. “Well, Nana Rung’s… how the hell are you not surprised?”

Maka spread her fingers out on the table, carefully examining her knuckles instead of the incredulous way he was staring at her. “I’m not saying I exactly _believe_ it, but I can’t say it _doesn’t_ exist either. I’m stubborn, but not rude. If I don’t know for sure, then… but _you_ believe it?”

“It’s the South, Ms. Albarn,” Soul answered with a tired surety. “Superstition runs in our blood. Witches, voodoo, rougarou- I guess even Traiteur- it’s a thin line between science and…” he waved his hand to waft away the rest of the words. 

“What’s a Traiteur?”

A strange moment of vertigo hit his brain as he tried to process her continued curiosity. “Faith healers. That’s what Nana Rung’s best at. Did- didn’t your mama tell you stories about this stuff?”

“No,” Maka expelled a slow breath. _She was trying_ not _to think of those kinds of things because it just made it worse- no fairytales, no myths, no legends, because the fantasy in her own head was more than enough._

“Sorry,” he murmured.

Maka raised her eyes, her chest freezing at the pure sorrow on his face.

“Your mama- you’re still hurtin’ and I just threw it outta my mouth like an idiot,” he whispered forlornly under his breath as a hand rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

A weak hum thrummed in her throat and chest, some pathetic sound that was keeping the tears from welling up in her eyes. “It’s-” she choked on the rest.

“Order up,” Henry called into the tension, cutting none of it and leaving Soul to lumber awkwardly to his feet. After slapping money to the counter, Soul grabbed the plates, bringing them back to the table to sit in the clutter of the words between them.

“It’s fine,” Maka finally breathed out, sliding the plate from the middle of the table towards her.

He heaved a breath that came out halfway between a sigh and a groan, “Don’t try to make up for me shovin’ my foot in my mouth, Ms. Albarn.”

“I’m not,” she easily sent the accusation back as she tried to get a grip on the monstrosity that she had the nerve to try to call a sandwich. “It just-” There had to be a pause big enough to bring in the breath she needed for this as a small bit of rust fell off her heart. “Maybe it’s nice that somebody didn’t forget about that for once.”

Soul was ultimately on the edge of his seat, wonder actually filling his words as she seemed to utterly excuse his stupidity. “Forget about what?”

“Nevermind,” Maka murmured and let a weak laugh follow it. “Just tell me how I’m supposed to eat this without getting most of it on my shirt.”

He managed half a grin, especially as hers strengthened in reply, “Don’t worry, Ms. Albarn. No one here expects anythin’ lady-like outta you.”

Maka’s foot met his shin under the table.

“Jus’ provin’ me right,” he spat. “Now, look, no point tryin’ not to make a mess. With all the fixin’s yer bound to get lettuce and sauce everywhere as is, but so help me, Ms. Albarn, if you lose any of that fish off that bread- _that_ is when you can expect judgment.”

“The real important thing is fish and bread?” she offered hopefully.

He nodded curtly before unhinging his jaw to take an absurdly giant bite out of his sandwich. Much to her comfort, eating didn’t require any additional words. While Soul devoured what Maka would have referred to as diner food, she picked, sliding the plate towards him after only getting halfway. All qualms about cooties were off the table, Soul easily moving to ravage the rest before easing back in his seat, hands clasping at his stomach. “Well, Ms. Albarn, what are yer thoughts?”

“You are _not_ going to like them,” she replied with the start of a smirk.

He muttered out the side of his mouth but still didn’t manage to muffle his voice, “I doubt that would ever stop you from sharin’ ‘em.”

“It was a fish sandwich, Soul,” she slapped him with all of the enthusiasm of a teenager reading out loud to the class.

“Yer lucky I’m too full to fight you,” he huffed before straightening up in the seat. “Let’s go, Ms. Albarn. It’s getting late.”

Maka glanced at the beige walls, catching sight of a clock that must have been lying to her. _There’s no way we’ve been sitting here for over an hour._ Before she could spend much time wondering, he was up and out of the booth, starting an impatient jaunt towards the door that forced her to double her steps. She caught up with him on the sidewalk, hands stuff in his pockets as she fell into stride with him.

“Yer car at the club?”

She nodded her reply.

“I’ll walk ya.” 

The rest was a creeping silence and when she turned to look at him, all she saw were thoughts clouding his face. The crunch of the gravel under her feet echoed as he followed her through the parking lot, stopping at the beat up sedan that still carried some northern dust on its wheels. She put her hand on the door, clicking the latch and opening it when she paused, sure she felt a whiff of air barely touch her elbow. When she turned her head, his hand was almost there, fingers hovering just before the skin.

“I’m gonna put my foot in my mouth again,” he croaked as his eyes trailed along the ground, “but the other day… what happened to you, Ms. Albarn?”

“I told you it wasn’t Wes,” she whispered quickly as she put an inch of distance between them, watching his hand fall back at his side in defeat.

“Not what I’m askin’,” he pressed back. “I know I said I’d keep yer secret-”

“It’s fine,” she answered sharply. “It’s just sleepwalking. I went to the doctor-”

“To Stein?” his eyes finally hit hers with a hard punctuation to the question.

Maka stumbled over the lie she wanted to give.

“Not Stein,” he whispered. “Don’t- don’t tell me you went to the town doctor? Delacroix?”

“Why?” Maka urged back instantly.

Soul couldn’t keep his eyes on hers, not with that green staring him down. “She-” He dug a hand into his hair, pulling at the roots painfully. “There’s somethin’ about her I don’t like. There’s… nothin’ to her.”

There was something more there, pain fluttering beneath the surface of his eyes and the fact that he refused to keep hers was gnawing away at her stomach. “Is that why you go to Stein?”

He nodded, swallowing down the bitter start of bile at the back of his throat. _It’s because Viv- oh, fucking hell, Viv-_ His hand clutched at the car door, his body threatening to tip until Maka’s now familiar hands came to him again, holding him upright for the second time.

“Let me drive you home,” Maka murmured. “Payback for the sandwich.”

“Ms. Albarn,” scratched up from his throat.

“Unless you want to fight over who’s more stubborn?” She didn’t dare ease her hands away and when he made no move or answer she forced him a step and then another until they were at the other side of the car. With Soul safely deposited in the passenger seat, Maka made her way to the driver’s side door, stopping to stand in the night air for a moment. _It’s just sleepwalking, right?_ She smiled bitterly at the thought before she slipped inside.

Weeks before, Maka would have imagined the absence of their chatter to be nothing more than natural, but in the confines of the car zooming along silent night roads after something close to a pleasant evening, it was as easy as pulling fingernails. Even when she turned into the driveway, struck the engine off and let it click, he didn’t offer a word or movement.

“Soul…” When she turned her head he was staring at her, but she was entirely sure it wasn’t her he was seeing but something so painful that his guts were practically in his hands.

“You musta heard,” he rasped as his hands tightened into fists. “I’m sure you know by now what happened at the lake. So-” He fought with it for a moment, throat bobbing wildly as he tried to swallow through it. “Tell me now, Ms. Albarn, if you’re plannin’ the same thing because I can’t-” His fists opened to dig nails into his thighs as his cheeks reddened with the force expelled to keep the tears at bay. “I can’t let anyone hurt him like that again. I can’t let things get taken from him again.”

“Soul, I wasn’t-” She reached for him, fingertips dusting the top of his hand just in time for him to jut it away as if the touch seared away skin. “I told you, I’m sorry Reggie saw, but it’s not that. I swear, I- I wasn’t _trying_ to hurt myself.”

A shaky hand came over his face and in a flash all of it wiped away, leaving behind eyes hollow and staring out into the darkness. “I’ll be seein’ you, Ms. Albarn,” he breathed out lifelessly before making a break for the night air.

* * *

Wes was waiting for Soul on the stoop, white linen suit shining in the darkness. “You were out late.”

“Thanks for worryin’, Mama,” he muttered as he attempted to get up the stairs but found Wes continuing to sprawl in his way. “What is it?”

“I called Blair’s.”

Soul turned his eyes towards the lights of the house. “And?” 

With all the helpful information from his brother’s mouth, Wes could only sigh and continue, “She said you’d been gone for at least an hour.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets for good measure. “Think that’s an exaggeration.”

“Were you out drinking?” Wes offered with a hint of authority- just enough to bring Soul’s wandering eyes back to him in annoyance. “I heard a car come up the lane so I know you were driving and if you were drinking-”

“I had somethin’ to eat, s’all.” Soul tried to roll his shoulders but it was more of a twitch and sweat pricked on his neck as Wes’s eyes narrowed. “ _What?_ ”

Wes’s eyes were stripping him down to the bone. “By yourself?”

“Reggie’s home, isn’t he?” Soul snapped back quickly.

“I didn’t insinuate it was with Reginald, and your defensiveness-”

Soul kicked a foot into the meat of Wes’s thigh, trying to force his leg out of the way. “Jus' say what yer gonna say, Wes, and then let me in the damn house.”

Wes crossed his arms over his chest as he obstinately pushed back against his brother’s foot. “Reggie went over to find Ms. Albarn this evening and she wasn’t home.”

Soul tried to keep his stare completely unwavering.

“Would she happen to be home now, do you think?” 

“Not ‘er keeper,” Soul gritted through his teeth and Wes finally parted from his position, letting him start a sulking stomp up the stairs.

“Soul,” Wes called firmly and to his surprise it brought the other man’s feet to a standstill. “Be careful- Mother was asking about her today.”

A shaky hand came to the back of Soul’s neck as he expelled a heaving breath. “Was she botherin’ Reggie with it? Because-”

“No, Reginald is very secure in his love for Maka so none of Mother’s words make an ounce of difference.” Wes laid that out flatly, watching as his brother’s shoulders tensed. “She’s concerned because _Clara_ seems to be concerned, and if it starts getting around that the two of you are out together-”

“Even if we were,” Soul growled. “I’m _not_ engaged to Clara. Mama _can’t_ run my life. And I meant what I said: I don’t care about Ms. Albarn one way or another.”

“That’s all very convincing,” Wes sang out with just enough vigor to get Soul to turn raging eyes back to him again.

“Again, Wes, jus’ say what yer gonna say and _let me go_.”

“I just don’t want you following another blind belief, Soul,” Wes replied with a sad understanding laced in his voice. “You’ll have to decide how you do feel, one way or another.”

Soul dropped his eyes, letting them linger over the tops of his shoes as he uttered a question that he already knew the answer to: “Whas’at supposed to mean?”

“Neutral isn’t your way- you’ve tried that once before, remember?”

The truth hit him like a wave, crushing the sense from him as he rushed into the house, away from his brother, and away from the night and its memories.

* * *

Maka eyed the pill bottle on her nightstand.

_The more he thought about Dr. Delacroix, the more terrified he got._

She lifted it, turning the orange plastic to hear the clank of the pills against the side.

_He doesn’t like something about her- but it’s more than that, isn’t it?_

The bottle slipped from her fingers, hitting the rim of the trashcan before circling at the bottom.

_I know you were talking about Reggie, but… Soul, what got taken away from you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing more with Soul's speech since he should follow some kind of southern-ish dialect. Tell me if you love it/ hate it. Lots of SoMa banter happening which brings me joy.


	16. Invitations

The doorbell shook Maka from her thoughts, causing her to drop the book abruptly into her lap. There was no need for a bookmark since the pages had tumbled as soon as the text was out of her hand and Maka left it with a sigh, moving to the hallway. There was an indistinct shadow wavering in front of the stained glass of the door as Maka opened it. “Hello?”

A petite bespectacled woman stood with a garment bag as tall as she was in the doorframe. “Ms. Albarn?”

“Yes?” Maka eyed her and then the black drape once more.

“I’m here for your fitting.” The woman pressed through the small opening that Maka had left her even in her fluster.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“This will explain,” the woman handed off a note as she continued into the house. “Is the study alright? Can you change there?”

Maka absently gave a “yes” as she ripped open the fine stationery.

  


“Ms. Albarn?”

Maka snapped from the dream on the paper to the one in the study, the woman still standing there with the garment bag now zipped open, exposing a vibrant green fluff of fabric. She looked at the note again, expecting different words but finding the same delicate hand and the same woman standing in front of her, hands on hips now in impatience. “I’m sorry, I just… I had no idea.”

“Oh, that’s Wesley Evans for you,” the woman chuckled. “Come along.”

She walked dumbly into the room, the paper fiddling in a circle in her fingers as she approached the gift. It was a beautiful shimmering jade, silk for certain, that looked as sleek as water. “This is…”

“Lovely,” the woman corrected with a sensible air, no awe inspired by the moment. “Will you please undress yourself?”

A confused hum broke her lips before she played at the buttons of her blouse. _Is this real? Did I fall asleep at the window seat and-_

Cold hands took over for hers, unbuttoning her shirt in nothing more than a surgical manner. “I don’t have all day, Ms. Albarn, and Mr. Evans has certainly cut it close to expect this to be done for Sunday.”

“Just a moment,” fluttered from Maka’s mouth as she put a step between her and the woman, taking over slipping off her shirt as her eyes focused on the exposed skin. There was a level of absurdity here that Maka couldn’t deny - stripping for a woman she barely even knew to put on a dress that probably cost as much as her tuition this semester - but she barely had the will or ability to refuse it especially as the woman took the gown out completely from the carrier. For a moment she would have to believe curses existed since this must be a fairytale with a dress from those princess dreams of her childhood. It was all shimmer and length, the fabric not just the jewel tone but creeping into a darker hue as the train continued.

“Step in please,” the woman ordered.

Maka was lost on what else to do but follow, easing into the display of fabric. The woman slid the fragile straps - which now Maka realized were twining ribbons of ivy that had been so delicately embroidered - over her shoulders before moving behind Maka.

“Your shorts, Ms. Albarn,” was scolded with utter disappointment.

“Oh,” Maka squeaked as she lifted under the gown and slid her shorts down just as the zipper ran up her spine to straighten her back up. 

“Thank goodness,” the woman expelled with a sigh. “Mr. Evans wasn’t sure of your size - but it looks like there’ll only be a few spots, mostly the bust…”

Maka swallowed her chagrin.

“Hold still!” The woman flitted around her, pinning and humming out thoughts as she went.

“What the hell is this?”

All of her muscles had been clenched just in case of a miss-pinning but suddenly they were stone at the sound of her father’s voice. “Papa-” Maka tried to turn around but the woman stuck her in place with clawing fingers. “It’s not-”

“Did _you_ order this?” He was already striding into her view, a finger plucking at the housing rather than the dress itself since the seamstress was still hovering as if the two voices rising in volume didn’t exist.

“No-”

“Then who?”

“If you would let me actually get a word in,” she exploded as her eyebrows furrowed, daring another word at the grimace on her father’s lips. “It’s a-” Maka’s eyes rolled in her head as she tried to search for something that didn’t sound utterly ridiculous. “It’s an apology.”

Surprise didn’t eliminate the frown, but Spirit’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “From _who?_ ”

“Wesley Evans, you know, the family behind us.” Maka waved a hand as if that nonchalant action should clear the rest of the air and watched as it only stirred up the angry wrinkle that always became more pronounced on his forehead just before a fitful meltdown.

“Evans? That _boy_ who’s been skulking around the backyard?”

“Skulking,” Maka couldn’t help but scoff, even if it encouraged that wrinkle to become a canyon. “And unless you’re talking about Reggie, both of them are _grown._ ”

“ _Both_ of them?” Spirit shot back. “How many boys are there and exactly what are you doing getting dresses and-” he ripped out the letter that was tucked between her fingers, “-invitations from them?”

“Papa!” Maka barely kept her voice from being a shriek. The woman that was still pinning around her kept Maka from lunging forward and grabbing the paper, leaving him free to step back and peruse the calligraphed invite.

“ _This_ is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you back here,” he huffed as he waved the delicate parchment back at him. “This cotillion _bullshit_ where woman snoop around in extravagant dresses, looking for rich husbands-”

“Which is much more disturbing than the strip club,” Maka spat that little bit of poison at him as Spirit’s eyes popped wider. “And I’m not _snooping around_ for a husband and I don’t know if I’m even taking the invitation but-” She cut off at she tossed her head back to the window, eyes trying to latch onto something out in the greenery, something that felt more real than the moment around her. There wasn’t silence in the room to cling to but even in the second’s worth of blankness she heard that soft trill again, a warbling call that wanted to pull her towards the window. “I want to go,” welled up from her chest before her mind could edit it.

Spirit pulled in a huffing breath, “If this is you-”

“Me what?” Maka snapped and regardless of the woman’s hands on her she took a decided step forward. “Go ahead, Papa, accuse me of _teenage rebellion_ or whatever other sociological term you want to throw at me but if you _dare_ bring up Mama right now you’ll have to do a lot more than hold college funds over my head to make me stay.”

The slides of pins in fabric were the only fluttering breaking through the silence. “I’m finished, Ms. Albarn.” The woman tugged at the zipper to the back of the dress, letting the delicate straps start to tumble off Maka’s shoulders.

“Papa, get out,” Maka ordered as she watched only his feet.

They shuffled, hesitating, while a brief grunt was just overpowered by the clearing of the seamstress’s throat. “I need to be going.”

That was the final push that Spirit needed, his shoes disappearing from Maka’s view as the dress started to slide from her body. “I’m sorry about that,” Maka murmured.

“Difficult parents apparently come with the neighborhood,” she replied glibly. “I’ll deliver this Saturday morning if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine…” Maka answered absently as she shuffled for her clothes and started buttoning her blouse. “Um… do I- is there anything else you need from me?”

A terse headshake was all Maka got in reply before the woman got back to tucking away the dress. Maka watched, trying to become enthralled with the process in order to keep her mind from wandering to the man she knew was lying in wait for her. She walked the woman back to the door, letting her out into the oppressive midday heat before resting against the outside of the house. _Maybe I can run. Maybe I can hide from whatever he has to say because I feel like I could explode. As if I could-_

“Maka.” His tone was testing the water, none of that annoyance from before.

“Hi, Papa,” she whispered as she tried to clear her own.

“I’m worried,” he matched her cadence and it was almost lost in the buzz of the cicadas and trills of the birds that chased them. “I know it’s nothing new to you but there’s _talk_ , Maka, there always is. If you start going to these parties, you’ll hear things about me- about your mother that you probably won’t like.”

“That _is_ nothing new,” Maka sighed.

“It’s just-” Frustration flew from his lips as a burst of air. “It’ll draw attention to _you_. They’ll want to know who you are, what they can use against you, and with all you’ve been through the past couple of months…”

“Thanks for worrying about me,” her reply came bluntly with no love laced in the words.

Crickets chirped, lending Maka another distraction in their flicking dance amongst the grass. His voice finally broke through the frolicking, “Let me come with you.”

_I’m not a little girl. I don’t need your protection. I’m not going to-_ The thoughts ceased as she finally brought her eyes to his, finding the echo of color that connected them beyond just some certificate of live birth. _But this is you trying, isn’t it? You never seem to do it right but at least it’s better than an empty house._ “You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

Spirit offered half a sly smile, “I’ll do my best.”


	17. Stickin' Your Nose Where It Don't Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: dead animal talk

As all light but the fluorescents overhead faded, Blake tossed his last carcass onto the table before picking up his bucket full of suds-laced water. Scrub brush in hand, he started to lather the scaled skin, dead eyes watching his work. Except not for long, since the distinctive clomping footsteps along the floor brought his head up from his task and stilled his hands, a smirk arriving just before his words, “And here I thought we weren’t friends.”

Soul let out a gruff laugh, “What gave you that idea?”

“See, I know you’re not here to get gator,” Blake chuckled before moving back to his work, gliding the brush against the dead animal’s hide. “Which means you’re here for a beer, and I’m not gonna lie- kinda knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me all that long.”

As he snorted out a laugh, Soul moved to the opposite side of the table, eyes avoiding the lifeless creature and trying to settle on the amiable face in front of him. “True. You’re somethin’ else, Blake,” Soul nodded through the words thoughtfully but let any enjoyment fall from his features. “But it’s about Ms. Albarn.”

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Blake groaned out, “Look, I ain’t interested in how she pissed you off this time. I’m sure she grinds your gears, but-”

“Somethin’s wrong with her, Blake,” Soul pressed through any of the jeering.

His hands instantly stopped, brush dropping to the table before he cleared his hands on his apron. Once cleaned, he crossed them over his chest, a sudden coolness taking over his features. “Whas’at supposed to mean?”

The words ground between Soul’s teeth, his mind still fighting him with the word  _ secret _ trying to blare out all the rest. “She- she says it’s sleepwalkin’ or somethin’ but she almost-”

“Don’t say another word,” Blake cut him off quickly.

“You know?” For a moment a whisper of hopefulness tried to catch in his chest but Blake’s solemnity blew out that fire.

“Remember what I said?” Blake snapped, eyes colder than the gator between them. “It’s not like it matters to you, so drop it.”

“But-”

There was no hope to get a word in edgewise, Blake’s voice booming over his in the close quarters of the hut. “You tell me when things like this happen and then that’s it.”

_ Isn’t that what you wanted to hear? Some kind of absolution from the problem? _ Instead, his insides tied in knots, the words gritting against the back of his throat like sandpaper. “But there’s gotta be somethin’-”

“I get it,” Blake rumbled in again. “You want to protect Eggie so you want me to tell you what you can do to keep her straight, and I don’t blame you for a second- wantin’ to protect your family- but this is me protectin’ mine. This is the part you don’t get to butt into if the only thing that matters here is Eggie.”

“Reggie,” Soul hissed back uselessly.

“If you don’t care about her, you don’t get to play hero.”

A nasty corner of rage started in him, an oily blackness leaking into his heart. “I’m not tryin’ to be a hero, Blake, I’m just-”  _ What? I’m gonna yell that I’m doing it for Reggie and prove him right? Or am I gonna yell that I’m making a decision and provin’ my brother right instead? Because I can’t- I can’t- after Viv what right do I have? I’m no one’s fuckin’ hero. I’m a selfish little bastard.  _ “I’m scared for her, s’all,” barely came as a whisper from his lips.

“And I’ll take care of it,” Blake answered with cold finality as his fingers instantly went back to his work. Soul watched for a few minutes more until Blake took out his knife. Soul never could stomach watching the skin ripped from muscle, and at that moment, he was sure he could feel it in his own.

* * *

Maka went to bed with her shoes on and the sharp edge of Nana Rung’s metallic petal digging into her palm.

_ I threw away the pills. _

_ But the charm will mean nothing. _

_ I’ll still wake up with dirty feet. _

_ I’ll still wake up even more like her than I was the day before. _

_ I’ll still wake up knowing what kind of future I have ahead of me. _

_ Days trapped in my mind as well as in between sterile white walls. _

That bird trilled outside her window again and Maka held her breath, praying that the oxygen stolen from her would free her from the worry. Instead it was that thrum of a call that lulled her eyes closed, that snatched the last bit of sense from her. 

Maka was learning how footsteps could be heavy as if she had lead on her feet but urgent as if she had fire at her back. There was no glaring heat behind her, but a snowy chill that breathed down her neck with each swing of her legs.  _ Someone’s there, someone’s behind me,  _ but that wasn’t what thrust her forward, an unknown pull, a need somewhere else lapping at her, calling like that bird in the distance.

_ I want to open my eyes. _

Exerting her will meant nothing. The flow was important. The movement that she let take her was all that mattered as the inky darkness behind her lids swallowed her whole.

_ “Take it with you on your walks.” _

_ Is it still in my hand? _

Identifying what space her body took up was an ability out of her reach, only the cry of her legs as they moved telling her that she was alive.

_ My hand- I want to know if it’s in my hand. _

A song twittered off, that one avian voice slipping into the shadows.

_ Please- I want to know if it’s in my hand. _

Suddenly, the winged orchestra returned, layers of cries swelling around her to reverberate through her skin, into her soul, down to the last layer of her being.

It was then that her legs failed, crumpling as an invisible assailant clasped hands to her shoulders to toss her to the ground. The grip never left, digging into her collarbones before sliding up to her neck, a snake constricting with icy scales. Her chest burned and while her legs tried to kick a pressure came to her waist, stilling most of her writhing.

_ Nothing works- no charms, no talismans. _

The woeful bitterness of it would have struck her if it hadn’t been for the tightening pressure crushing against her trachea.

_ There has to be some power. Nana Rung gave this to me. It has to have something. _

The only reply was the ache of her lungs begging for air.

_ Please, I have to have it- it has to be there! _

An ear-shattering call swelled up again, clamoring over any of the thoughts in Maka’s mind until she could only scream back:

_ I don’t want to die! I don’t want to give up! I don’t want dirty feet and white walls, I want my life and you can’t have it! Whatever you want I’ll listen, but you can’t take all of this from me! _

Suddenly out of the pitch black night there was a face hovering over hers. Pale blue eyes shone brightly against the canvas of pale skin, with scruffy blond hair framing a high forehead. The thin lips parted, spittle hitting her face as the words hissed out,  _ “It’s gonna be those babies next. Just because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Then your brother, your mother, all of ‘em thanks to you.”  _

“Maka!” Air scraped down the back of her throat as the face disappeared in a wisp of smoke to reveal Blake’s. “Maka, what the  _ fuck _ .” It wasn’t a question but a desperate plea as he pulled her into his lap, one arm holding up her shoulders and the other touching her neck. “Did you have somethin’ around your neck?”

“No,” Maka managed to whimper, still pulling deep breaths into grateful lungs.

“Then what the  _ fuck _ ?” He tried again, bringing hard eyes back to her face.

“How did you find me?” she murmured as her eyes tried to make sense of her surroundings. Trees gave away to scrappy underbrush, but there wasn’t a single sign that spoke to where they were or how far Maka had walked.

“I followed you,” he hissed back. “Went to see you after I was finished with the gators but you were already walkin’ halfway up the lane. Even when I called you, there wasn’t any stoppin’ you and I… I didn’t want to scare you, like they say about people sleepwalkin’ so I left it until you started chokin’.”

Maka tried to press a shaky hand to his chest before she realized the weight in her palm, the death-grip in her fingers. She didn’t dare look, but still felt the prick of the corners of the blossom. Her arms moved slowly, but they moved around his neck, pulling him close enough so she could hide her face against his shoulder.

“You giant fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered but his hand came softly to her hair and brushed dried leaves from the edges. “Why didn’t you say anythin’?”

“Because it’s-” Maka started but the threat of a sob dried up all the words in her mouth.

“Instead, I had to have that idiot come tattle on you.” A rough sigh accompanied that but another sweet run of his hand almost lulled her into its security.

Instead, Maka’s head popped up, eyes searching his face. “Soul talked to you?”

“He was worried.” Blake quickly patted her on the cheek as the fussing started on her face. “Stop that. Bet you told him to keep it a secret but you shoulda known better. And you shoulda told me anyway.  _ And Stein. _ Don’t know how you got it in your head-”

“Because I’m like her!” Maka finally let the cry rasp from her throat, the words heaving at Blake’s face but leaving him more annoyed than thunderstruck.

“Like who?”

“Blake,” she groaned before trying to push away from him. Maka got halfway into the dirt, Blake still keeping a steady hold on her elbow but letting her flounder on her bottom. “The sleepwalking, everything- it means I’m just like my mother!”

“Bullshit,” Blake barked. “Your mom-”

“Is crazy and so am I!” She boomed as her one hand came into her hair, the other clutching so tightly to the charm that it cut into her palm.

Blake sucked his teeth as he got to his feet, bringing her elbow with him to get her to shuffle to stand with him. “You know what’s crazy? Not tellin’ your family that you’re strugglin’ with this. That’s what’s crazy. And I don’t know what  _ you _ remember, but as far as I know, you’re nothin’ like Wren. She was a  _ bitch _ , Maka, and had a lot more problems than just sleepwalkin’.”

Maka jolted in his hand, rigid with her lips trembling. “What did you just say?”

Blake shook his head, “I know you want to have a perfect picture of her, but that isn’t what she was- what she is. Wren’s nothin’ compared to you, so stop trying to line yourself up with her.” He watched the anger broiling under her stunned silence and gave her arm a tug to hopefully stop the spill. “Come on, you’re going to see Stein.  _ Now _ .”

“What if I tell you no?” Maka didn’t pull back but refused the step forward he was trying to force. 

“Try me,” Blake shrugged. “But, then again I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s gonna, and you wanna see how pissed he can get if I’m the one tellin’ him, not you?”

Maka swallowed down that bitter truth, as she was suddenly reminded that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree- Blake was never one to mince words. Instead, she stepped towards him, Blake reflexively throwing an arm around her shoulder and starting to guide her back down a deserted trail. “Where are we?” Maka broke through the repetition of their footfalls and the insects calling in the dark.

“In the woods behind the church,” Blake sighed. “Walk past Soul’s and this is where you eventually end up. I actually kinda thought…” He let that rattle off with a chuckle.

Maka nudged an elbow into his side. “Thought what?”

“Thought maybe I was catchin’ the two of you at it.”

“At what?” Maka barely grumbled back especially as Blake’s hand gripped her tighter and jostled her by the shoulders.

“Guess you still have some growin’ up to do,” he laughed. “But, seriously, one thing you can grow out of right now is this shit about your mom. I may not always agree with Spirit, but I think bringing you here, gettin’ you away from her-”

“Stop- please,” Maka murmured. Instead of an elbow to his side, her hand had reached out to his other, pulling her body close to his so they could continue to stumble along together.

“Fine, I’ll shut my big mouth for now,” he muttered.

The trail opened up to a building so white is shone in the darkness, a beacon with a finger of a bell tower reaching up into the night sky. There was no light from the tall, painted glass windows but Maka could swear they fluttered with color, yellows and oranges mimicking the lick of flames as the moon reflected off each panel. Calling it a chapel was probably more fitting, just a small community church that had settled on the outskirts of the Evans estate. Maka was sure if she chased down a history book or two, or even asked the Thompson sisters, the connection between the two would be clear, but even with the glow, a dark ache started in Maka’s stomach.

“You OK?” Blake tapped his fingers against her shoulder. “You tensed up awful quick.”

“I just…” Maka tried to find the light in it again, forcing some kind of easiness that others found in the face of that kind of religiosity, but all of it fell flat in her heart. “Do people go to that church?”

“Marie went for a little,” Blake tried to ease amiability back into his voice, but feeling the cords of her muscles continue to flex was draining it quickly. “Said the pastor was a little too fire ‘n brimstone for her.”

_ Maybe that’s what I feel- that lingering intensity like smoke. Like fire and smoke. _ Maka tried to shake the thoughts right out of her head. “Is this really that close to Soul’s?”

“You blind?” Blake nodded out across the road to the farm fencing that took up the right pasture of the Evans estate. Maka’s eyes ran along the posts until she reached the driveway and the modernized garage.

“Sorry, guess I just…”  _ I didn’t walk all that far, but I climbed through the slats in the fence? And there wasn’t a single person to stop me along the way? _ She looked towards the main house, seeing only dim lights in the bedrooms, none with such intensity to speak of lively inhabitants.

Blake let the thought trail as he let go of her to vault the fence, giving a rousing  _ whoop _ as fuel to get him over. Maka laughed, not pushing herself to do the same since the night’s terror wasn’t waning, still holding its boney fingers around her neck, just waiting for the moment that Blake wouldn’t be there- or Stein, or Soul.  _ Why is his name now part of that list? And why… why do I think I need them to protect me? At that moment, the moment that I  _ saw _ , didn’t I tell it ‘no’- whatever it was- and didn’t that give me the power to see? _ She pocketed the charm in her hand before touching her neck.  _ But I was still choking, dying, wasn’t I? _

“Pick up the pace,” Blake shot over his shoulder.

Maka bounded a few extra steps, brushing shoulders with him so she could check the worry in the periphery of his eyes. She let it go wordlessly, just bringing her hand to catch his on the next swing and giving it a squeeze before disengaging. Their feet stayed in step all the way to the front door, Blake not bothering to play the gentleman as she entered after him, shutting it quietly and following him down the hallway to the low light coming from the study.

Stein’s voice was floating mellowly down the hall, a drone of medical jargon coming from his lips. Blake didn’t bother to knock, simply easing the door open on squeaking hinges. The baby was sprawled on his chest, her head slightly tilted up to breath sweetly against his neck. “I was just finishing reading Shelley her nightly case studies… so what is it?” Stein whispered quietly.

“Maka’s gotta talk.” As if running away was ever a threat, Blake hooked the bottom of her shirt, pulling her into the room and into Stein’s sights. “I’ll take the baby.” Unlike his gator hefting, Blake took this job with utter gentleness, lifting the sleeping infant from Stein and cradling her in his arms. “See ya.” He left one last meaningful look for Maka before he snuck out the door.

“It must be important for Blake to take the baby,” Stein hummed out thoughtfully, giving her the start for her thoughts.

“Stein, I-” Maka started but the words fell to sand on her tongue. Before trying again, she moved towards the smoking chair by the window, an ashtray still there even though Stein had given it up for the baby. “You’d never lie to me, would you?”

“There’s no point,” Stein answered evenly, but a smirk suddenly grew to temper the rest of his sentence, “You’re a grown woman. Not to mention, lying to you is incredibly hard to begin with. I’ve watched your father struggle with it for enough years to know better.”

Maka offered a sickly smile in reply. “I’m… scared of what you’ll tell me.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t or won’t face it,” he murmured back. “Tell me the symptoms.”

She slipped off her shoes so she could pull her knees to her chest, hugging them until her legs ached. “When I fall asleep- day or night, nap or regular- I’ve started walking. It’s not every time I don’t think, but… I know it’s at least once or twice a week.”

Stein leaned towards his desk, clicking a pen and pressing it to the pad. “All night?”

“Maybe? I’m always tired now, so there’s a good chance,” she finished with a weak laugh that fizzled as her hand came to her face, trying to push back the urge to sob. “That’s the problem,  _ I don’t know _ . When it starts, where I go, what I’m doing. I almost  _ drowned _ and would have if Wes hadn’t pulled me out of the water and tonight… I was choking and Blake had to wake me.”

After his scribbles finished, Stein stabbed his pen to the paper a few times, his brow wrinkling in thought. “You walked into water? And where did Blake find you?”

She let her hand settle over her eyes, blocking him from seeing the start of her tears. “The lake near the house then the woods behind the church.”

A thoughtful grunt rumbled from him before she heard more scribbling. “Are those the only places?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured again weakly.

“Keep track of those,” Stein came back quickly with such thoughtful interest that Maka dropped her hand.

“What’s important about that?” Maka managed to eke out.

“It’s interesting, perhaps just coincidence,” his voice meandered with his thoughts. “Two young ladies have died nearby and it just so happens you’ve named both places.”

She rushed the words back but they came out breathlessly, “Vivienne and…?”

“Yes, Vivienne at that very lake and Kilik’s sister in that wooded glen behind the church. And you’ve been spending time with both families, haven’t you?” Stein’s question was casual but his look was not, eyes digging away at her for every last ounce of truth.

“I have…” Maka cleared the tears from her cheeks, trying to catch any more puzzle pieces from him before she spoke again. “Am I just… am I thinking about that? Is that what might be bringing me to these places? But I didn’t  _ know _ about where Chi died. I knew it happened but…” Maka hand fell to her pocket, feeling the charm through the fabric.

“Again, could be coincidence,” Stein finished swiftly. “We’ll try a mild sedative at night, see if that at least keeps you  _ still _ .”

The clamor of her heart almost drowned out his words, Maka struggling to keep away the strange echo of Dr. Delacroix. “But that means… Stein, I’m just like her, aren’t I?” The repeated pathetic whimper that left her mouth burned shame into her gut.

“No,” Stein answered easily before turning back to his pad as if the answer didn’t shatter the world around her.

“What?”  _ I can throw away Blake saying it- probably even if Papa said it, but Stein… he can’t lie, he won’t, but that is a lie! It has to be! _

Stein sighed out with an exhausted impatience, “You inherited your mother’s hair. I would say that’s about it.”

“But-” Maka was trying to pull the argument that was screaming from every fiber of her being but Stein’s serenity was puncturing gaps in her logic. “She used to sleepwalk- talk about seeing things.”

“Agreed,” Stein nodded, “but your mother lived by one very simple rule: to not believe anything. You are far more flexible than that.”

Her fingers trembled into her knee caps, pressing crescent moons into her skin. “Are you saying that I… how am I supposed to  _ believe _ in what’s happening to me? What does that even  _ mean _ ?”

Stein shook his head, “It’s not believing one thing or another. You’re concerned, that’s what’s important. You’re trying to find answers. Your mother’s choice was always to conceal, to run from, to insist that everything was  _ normal _ . You are not normal, Maka, but at the very least you’ve never acted as if you were.”

A bitter laugh welled up in her throat before hauntingly echoing in the quiet of the room. “Not being normal is supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not at all.” Stein stood from the desk and walked over to her chair, planting a firm hand into the plush back before leaning towards her. His whispers were always worlds different from his regular voice, a tone she knew mostly from the times when unseen wounds needed to be healed. “It’s been a while since you’ve remembered how strong you are. My memories are of a very different girl- headstrong and wild, not timid and worried. Our most important work is getting you to let go of this obsession with your mother and letting you get back to that.”

_ I saw something when I demanded it, _ a part of her whispered back.  _ That was the stubborn Maka that Stein left behind, wasn’t it? That moment of denying death. Mama would have just said this wasn’t happening, closed her eyes to it, let the breath be taken from her because it wasn’t her reality. _ Maka reached out for Stein’s hand and took it in hers, guiding him to clear her tear stained cheeks.  _ I won’t become her. _

* * *

With all lights dimmed in his room, Soul was nothing more than another bit of black against the sill. He’d watched the figures in the moonlight as they approached the fence, so close that they were almost one until they split so Blake could bray as he jumped the barrier. Maka had been slower, easing through the slats before moving swiftly to catch up. It was nothing- it only lasted a moment- but there in the moonlight he watched them collide again, hands clutching together for a creeping moment.

_ Why are my fingers clenching into the sill? _

_ Why am I just as angry- just as spittin’ as when Blake blew me off? _

_ And why- why- why am I fighting the damn urge to run down the stairs, into that field just to hear her say that she’s alright? _

He tried to bring the night air into his lungs, trying to fill them with some kind of calm but all it did was feed the storm that had started in his chest.


	18. Rossignol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: discussions of violence/death

The phone buzzed in Soul’s palm as confusion and disbelief drew lines on his forehead. His finger hovered, tensing ever so slightly above the red button. This should have been as simple and automatic as breathing, but instead it became a cataclysmic struggle in his mind while a weak groan of air eked from between his pressed lips. His thumb swiped towards the green circle and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hi.” It wasn’t entirely terse, but the nerves he had expected the first time were there and instantly her breath was clouding the line.

“You need somethin’?” he tried.

“I need your help.”

_ You don’t get to play hero _ , Blake’s voice echoed behind hers.

Maka must have taken his pause as acquiescence because she continued, “I need you to take me back to Nana Rung’s.”

_ Oh, somewhere out there, Nana Rung is most definitely cacklin’. _ “Aren’t you friends with Kilik?” He planted his palm to his face, just refusing the grunt of irritation as he battled with his own mind.

“I am, but it feels  _ weird _ ,” Maka muttered back without even letting the implication of his shortness settle in her mind. “I need to ask her about that charm she gave me.”

“The flower?” His vexation spiked as that need continued to fight for supremacy in his chest.

“Yes.” The silence that followed urged him to pull the phone from his ear, checking to see her name still on the screen before pressing it back. Just as his fear of showing too much was about to strangle him, her voice came back with a decided strength. “Will you take me?”

“Ms. Albarn…” He tried to let that buy him enough time to formulate an argument but nothing sprung to mind especially as the image of her walking across that field rattled there.

“We can bring Reggie,” she tossed out quickly. “You could… you could just have a good time with him, Soul. I think he’d like that.”

“He likes havin’ time with you,” Soul muttered back sullenly.

“Don’t sound so jealous,” she tried to tease but a sigh shattered it. “I’m new, exciting, but you’re what he  _ knows _ . Who he’ll always go back to. Just help me and yourself at the same time.”

Soul gave a tight laugh in reply as he ran his hand back through his hair. “Ms. Albarn, sometimes you are…”

“Entirely right?” she offered. 

He brought his fist down on the meat of his thigh, knocking absently as he went searching for resolve he didn’t have.  _ Reggie. I’m doin’ this for Reggie. _ “Alright. When?”

“Tonight?” That took a hopeful dip upwards.

“I’ll call ‘er,” he sighed. “Pick you up around dinner.” Soul instantly tore the phone away from his ear, purposefully missing anything she could offer, regardless of its sweetness or smugness. He tapped it against his leg a few times, trying to shake away the nerves from his voice before he scrolled through the limited contacts.

“Yo,” Kilik answered after the first buzz. “Kind of early this month, aren’t you?”

Soul cleared his throat but it did nothing to the residue of the last call. “Tell Nana we’re all comin’ by tonight. She doesn’t have to make anythin’-”

“She will,” Kilik cut him out with a jovial laugh. “And by ‘ _ we _ ’ you mean…?”

He huffed out another breath.

“Well, the twins’ll be excited.” Kilik paused to allow his warmth to drift through the line even though Soul was trying to hold stubbornly onto the opposite. It almost worked until the next words came so gently that Soul could swear Kilik was handling him with the same effort as one would a butterfly wing. “This is  _ good _ , Soul. Don’t try to convince yourself otherwise.”

“I’m doin’ it for Reggie.” Parroting that line again started a dull ache in his chest.

“Sure.” A chuckle that reminded Soul too much of Nana Rung’s filtered over the line as Kilik hung up the phone.

* * *

Maka was trying not to fall into that disjointed wave of déj à vu as Soul sat in the driver’s seat, his entire body uncomfortably wound and mind lost in a concentrated glare through the windshield. Reggie’s voice continued to dance lively into her ear as his fingers worked over the joints of hers, nonsensical motions to accompany sweetly innocuous words that Maka so definitely wanted to listen to but found sliding away. Nothing could stick to her mind as it churned somewhere between the choking and the way Soul almost seemed to be doing the same, swallowing something down in his purposeful silence.

When they halted in the driveway, Soul was mostly motionless, letting Maka and Reggie tumble out of the car first this time and start up the walk before even bothering to open his door. It wasn’t until Kilik exited the front door that he bothered to stand into the balmy night air. He hated the smile that Kilik offered and especially despised the snicker that sounded off as soon as he was within earshot.

“You caved.”

“Keep talkin’,” Soul grumbled and attempted to push past him but found a firm hand planted on his chest.

“You’re going to have a good night with Reggie.” Kilik was sending that message through his fingers before clenching them into a fist to tap gently against Soul’s sternum. “Promise me.”

“What, pinkies?” The humor in his voice drifted off with a huff of air. “I’m just…”  _ I wish there was a way I could fuckin’ cut it from my chest and just let you see it. I don’t have words for this, I  _ never _ have words for this feeling and I…  _ “Somethin’s wrong with her,” he murmured weakly.

To Soul’s surprise, Kilik’s laugh was back, his head shaking softly. “Well, you try askin’ her about it?”

A silent glare was all Soul could offer.

Kilik whistled before letting his hand drop away to give Soul freedom. “If looks could kill. OK, another pinky promise. When you drop her off tonight, you ask: ‘ _ You sure you’re OK? _ ’”

“I know what to say,” he grumbled back.

“Yeah, always the wordsmith.”

Soul let the teasing hit his back as he moved through the door just to find Maka meeting him half way as her head stuck out of the kitchen. “Come on, Reggie wants  _ you _ to read to them.”

“Now I know that’s a lie, Ms. Albarn,” he chided but slowed as he met her in the doorway. Though he wanted to bend towards her, he forced himself back, letting his spine hit the doorframe. “One thing.”

Maka blinked up at him, a smile hesitating at the corners of her mouth. “What?”

“You need somethin’, you ask for it.”

“I did,” she murmured back. “Hence the phone call.”

He sighed, letting his mouth hang open as he tried to arrange the words.

“I get it,” she giggled softly. “Thanks, Soul.”

“Yeah,” he muttered before leaving his perch to stride out the back door and onto the patio. The kids were already buzzing, the hum of little voices echoing off the canopy over them. Soul took one last moment to look towards the house, seeing the blinds open and Nana Rung staring at him with a knowing smile. Under his breath, he barely let the words escape: “Neutral isn’t my fuckin’ way.”

* * *

Maka knocked softly before chiming, “Nana Rung?”

“Come in,” came back just as pleasantly, leaving Maka no choice but to open the door. Nana Rung was sitting on the edge of her bed, and as Maka entered, she waved a welcoming hand towards the chair by the window. “Have a seat.”

“I hope you don’t mind…”

“Nothin’ to mind,” Nana Rung smiled back amiably, “but I do like gettin’ to the point. It didn’t seem like you were one to mince words last time, Maka, so don’t start now.”

“Alright.” Maka eased into the chair slowly as if waiting for a trap to spring.  _ What do I say without sounding crazy? Without making her laugh in my face? Or worse- without me hurting her, because what I want to say, what I think I know about Chi- _

“You went walkin’ with it?” Nana Rung instantly derailed Maka’s train of thought, sending it spiraling hopelessly. 

Instead of falling into the urge to follow that destruction, Maka let the truth roll right off her tongue, “I think I did- or, really, I did have it with me when I was sleeping walking but… ”

“It didn’t work?” Nana Rung’s face faltered, that amiable smile trembling as it threatened to break.

“What didn’t work?” Maka pressed back as her hands kneaded into the upholstery beside her thighs. “You gave that to me for a reason- because you  _ know _ something that I don’t and I need you to tell me!”

The smile was now gone but Nana Rung’s eyebrows still lifted with at least some softness. “You’re a Rossignol, aren’t you?”

“What does that even mean?” Maka spat. “Is that a name? A thing? Am I some sort of  _ freak-  _ since each person who seems to say it says it like a curse.” The fight was rising up her, chest swelling with breath to feed each sentence to blare at its fullest. “I need you to tell me what  _ you _ know and then I’ll tell you what I saw.”

“Fair,” she nodded back slowly. “I suppose your mama and papa told you some sweet story of how they got married?”

“No.” While Maka wanted to sound biting a swell of hope was hitting her, praying for light to uncover the shadows.  _ They never gave me answers. That’s not their way. I wasn’t supposed to live in the past. _

“Was nice, young love- that is until jus’ before the weddin’.” Nana Rung let her eyes drift towards the window, catching the children playing along with the broad shoulders of the two men watching them. “Secrets don’t survive here, Maka. They are hunted out, used to destroy more often than rebuild and that’s what happened to your mama. She lived with the comfort that she was nameless- that there was no family that she belonged to until the one she made with your papa but tha’s impossible. We all come from certain stock and your mama-  _ you  _ come from the Rossignol.”

“So it’s a name,” Maka murmured.

“An’ a curse or a blessin’- dependin’ on who you ask.” Nana Rung let a slow breath of air come and go before she continued, “Whole town knew ‘bout the witch in the woods. While, yes, Rossignol is technically a name, I don’t think it was a case of passin’ from husband to wife, but, honestly, there’s too many stories about how the witch was a Rossignol or why.” The fairytale swell was starting but all Maka could feel was a chill settling in her bones. “How many of those stories were made up by childish heads I’ll never know but she lived on her own, out on the swamp where no one could find her. The only way you could is if you made a blood pact, and then, only then, would she talk to the dead for you.”

“Thing about that was… well, she was a  _ child _ . First time I saw her, I realized she wasn’t that much older than myself, and the idea that she lived on her own, out among the gators and kingfishers, well, made no sense unless someone was takin’ care of her. But that’d all be story of my own makin’ since everyone knew she came from the one the town burned, the original Rossignol, and had no family other than that.”

“So my great grandmother?” Maka wished for pen and paper, hoping to draw some type of web that could possibly do this justice even though all the lines were hazy.

Nana Rung stood, moving towards the window so she could still catch the action of the yard in the fading light. “Yes, named the same as the one after, both of ‘em Suzume- somethin’ that Reggie told me you share.”

“My middle name,” she murmured back.

“Somehow, thanks to  _ someone _ , your grandma survived after the foolishness that happened to your great grandma.” Nana Rung’s eyes narrowed, watching as white hair rustled to expose those now familiar red eyes watching her like a guard dog with hackles half raised. “Someone protected her, but not enough. Your grandma was found in a puddle of her own blood out in the swamp, but there was never any sign of a child, that is not until your mama was meant to marry your papa. Not until  _ someone _ found out about that ring she kept-”

“What?” Maka jumped.

“Tol’ you- keepin’ secrets is impossible,” Nana Rung chuckled roughly. “That ring tied your mama back to that line and the rumors exploded. Not to mention the fact that you were already well on the way before marriage was even mentioned.”

“But-” Maka stuttered over the words as millions of questions crowded her teeth. “Why does that matter to anyone? Why does it make a difference if we used to be  _ witches _ or  _ thought _ we could speak to the dead?”

The movement of Nana Rung’s chin towards her was slow and with each tick of muscle Maka felt her heart thump. Honey-gold eyes appraised her. “Thought? So what you did- you think tha’s all just a dream?”

This was a strange cusp to sit on, a precipice that threatened to drop her into a mire she couldn’t escape.  _ Saying no- would that be what makes me like Mama? But is this what Stein meant when he said I wasn’t normal? Could he seriously believe- expect  _ me _ to believe- _ Maka clutched tightly into the fabric of the chair before jumping in. “It wasn’t a dream, just like walking into the lake wasn’t a dream and the birds that keep showing up. None of it is a dream but none of it feels real either. It’s like I’m stuck in the middle.”

“Ain’t that the problem.” Nana Rung clucked her tongue before turning close enough to Maka to place a gentle, weathered hand on her shoulder. “Maybe you have to ask yourself  _ why _ you’re stuck in the middle. They’re all pullin’ you, so what’s keepin’ you back?”

_ I saw something when I demanded it- when I accepted it. But what is it- a blessing or a curse? What happens to me if I accept it all as it is? One burned, the next bloody, the last mad, and now me. What happens to me?  _ “If I have something of theirs, I can see… what they saw?”

“So the story goes,” Nana Rung replied with weak hope.

“I saw a face.” Maka let the hazy wisp of smoke ooze back over her vision. “Chi’s flower brought me behind the church and there… I saw a face, but- is that what you really want to know? Who? It’s not like what I say could do anything in court, or-”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” a little venom sat around the edges of those words, stinging as they hit Maka. “Never expected the law to do much, but not knowin’- tha’s what digs at you.”

“He was blond,” Maka murmured. “Blue eyes and… short hair, but not too short, just kind of scraggly. Not like Soul’s, not sharp, but kind of a little curl to it.” She shut her eyes, trying to hold that rage-filled face hovering over her. “High forehead, thin lips. The voice… it wasn’t deep, more a middle tone, but maybe that was because-” Her eyes popped open, looking questioningly at the golden ones still boring down. “How much do you want to know?”

“Everything,” came Nana Rung's raspy reply.

“He choked her with his hands,” she had to pause to swallow, still feeling the ghost of those fingers clamped around the tender skin. “He was enraged and he… he said the babies were next, you and Kilik, too. He told her all of you would die because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. I don’t know what about since that was when Blake woke me.”

The soft hand at Maka’s shoulder withdrew, coming to plant over lips that trembled before Nana Rung turned her sights to the window. “Chi never did tell us who the father was. Thought at first it was pride, but now I suppose… oh, to  _ fear _ the father of your children,” she finished in a mournful whisper.

Maka tried to transpose that vengeful face over the gentle ovals of the twins but instantly pushed it aside, the bile starting in her throat at the attempt. “I- I’m sorry I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen him before so I…”

“But if you did see him?” Nana Rung offered even though she left her eyes to the darkness outside.

Hesitation found no home with the words that jumped from Maka, “I’ll tell you.”

“You understan’ the danger that puts you in?” The whisper was still guarded as if hope didn’t want to come with the idea.

“Probably not,” Maka laughed weakly, “and I know I should think about it, especially when you consider how the rest of the women in my family actually suffered for this, but…” A steady thrum was coming back to her heart as if the beats before had been out of time. “There has to be a reason I can do this. Things I can fix. I can’t believe it’s here just to cause pain.”

“And you got people protectin’ you,” Nana Rung murmured sweetly. “That Blake boy, your strange uncle the doctor, and, well-” She interrupted herself with a laugh as her hand came from her mouth to tap a finger against the glass of the window. “There’s a certain set of red eyes that have been glarin’ at me ever since I got to the window, so…” 

“Not sure that has anything to do with me,” Maka muttered. “I’m starting to assume it’s his default expression, glaring eyes.”

She let another chuckle take her over before turning to Maka. “Boy is stubborn as a mule, but give him some credit. He’s got his own ghost on his back, one I doubt he’s askin’ your help for.”

“Nana Rung, I’m not going to pretend like I understood a word of that,” Maka sighed out the end in frustration. “He’s… he’s not alright, is he? The mask he puts on, there’s something underneath there that’s killing him and-” She wanted to throw a hand over her face at the thought especially as it trailed after ghosts. “The whole world thinks he’s cursed- him included- and I wonder if it’s all just an excuse.”

A melodic, thoughtful hum buzzed in Nana Rung’s chest. “Girl who walks with the dead wants to say curses don’t exist?”

“I know.” The exasperation pulled another breath from her.

“Maybe not, maybe so,” Nana Rung tilted her head with each. “Maybe there’s someone else you could ask if you really want to know the truth.”

* * *

Soul settled into the dirt, the exhaustion of running with the fireflies catching up with him. The day was dead, and night was bringing the hoots of owls and the flutter of bats while the children chattered behind him at the table. He had opted to put his back to the light, watching out along the tree-line as shadows came and went, hinting at nocturnal creatures going about their business. His mind tried to busy itself with their lives rather than his own.

“How is it that you can’t listen to a  _ word _ I say?”

Soul’s heart thundered at the voice alone. When he turned up his face, he caught the light hitting just behind her and haloing her head with the dizzying movement of moths fluttering around the edges. “What?” he tried to spit out with a bit of stubbornness but found much more awe instead.

“You’re supposed to be with Reggie,” Maka waved a hand back towards the table where the children sat with mounds of crayons and paper, “but I find you sulking in the dark instead. I can’t say I’m surprised-”

“Judgin’ me,” Soul spat as he finally tore his eyes away from her and back out into the night. “Sit here and let me tell you exactly all the abuse I’ve taken from those little heathens for the past few hours while you’ve been running your mouth inside.”

“I’m sorry-  _ running my mouth _ ?” She shot back with an indignant air but still settled next to him as she stretched her legs into the tickling grass. “And it has  _ not _ been  _ hours _ .”

“Feels like it,” he grumbled. “And I’ve got the mosquito bites to prove it.”

“That proves nothing,” she laughed. “You walk outside and you’ll have fifteen before you make it to the car. That measures  _ nothing _ . Now tell me how many frogs you caught and then maybe I’ll believe you.”

For the first time since his thoughts had roped him in, Soul found a laugh rumbling in his chest. “Ask Reggie and he’ll tell you ten, but I think it’s closer to ‘bout three. Maybe three ‘n half if you count the leftovers of some bird’s lunch we found.”

Maka wrinkled her nose, “Gross.”

“Nah, they liked that one, guts ‘n all. That Lana’s got  _ no _ fear- almost touched it with her bare hands.” Soul let out another round of chuckles before his eyes roamed to the movement of her legs, watching her feet bother her shoes off before she sunk her toes into the grass. “Looks like somebody else doesn’t have issue with gettin’ a little dirty.”

“What?” Maka followed his eyeline to her feet. “It’s just more comfortable.”

“Ah, you sure you ain’t a country girl, Ms. Albarn?” he teased as he laid the accent thickly on each word.

_ Maybe just used to walking like one. _ As that thought hit her mind it must have drifted into her eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered as his attention left her entirely, once again looking for meaning in the darkened leaves.

“It wasn’t that,” she said softly. “I… I’ve just got a lot in my head. So don’t-” She kicked a barefoot to his shoe, getting him to glance at her ankle. “I like this. It’s weirdly comforting, the way you talk to me.”

He cleared his throat, trying to urge words along with the air and finding none. Maka watched him fidget, his hands clenching and releasing on his knees as his spine curled slightly forward. Just as she was sure he was about to stand to run, he leaned back, his head half coming over his shoulder but not to catch her in entirety. Instead, he was watching his hand as he placed it in the grass next to hers, his pinky just barely touching her own. Without acknowledgement, Soul brought his eyes back out to the tree-line, but leaned easily back letting Maka catch all of his profile as she felt the weight of that single finger.


	19. At a Crossroads

“What a pleasure!” Wes had been waiting at the door, having stealthily replaced his mother in anticipation of this exact moment: Ms. Maka Albarn was starting up the stairs in the dress he’d tailored for her. And while she was beyond stunning- truly the angel in their midst that he’d claimed before- a particularly sour faced man was quick to accompany her. “And you must be Mr. Albarn.” Wes extended his hand with that beautiful grin that had been passed down to Evans men for generations.

“Spirit.” He wasn’t entirely amiable of voice but at least he took Wes’s grip.

“Thank you for inviting us.” Maka allowed Wes to take her hand next, and while for a moment the idea of lips dusting her knuckles seemed entirely possible, Wes’s other hand only clasp on top of hers warmly.

“Really, Ms. Albarn, I meant what I said- my behavior was utterly atrocious so I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me.” Wes turned, keeping her hand but sweeping an arm to touch her elbow and begin to lead her in the foyer. 

Maka could feel Spirit’s glare attempting to melt through her but she leveled an easy smile at Wes as he fluttered her past people with measured steps. “It wasn’t your fault, Wes, it was- it was just an accident. I should actually be thanking  _ you _ -”

“Which brings me to my next bit of business,” Wes tucked in between her words with such grace that Maka was stunned silent, just blinking as he continued to bring her to the bar. “A bourbon, neat please.” He released her to tap amiably on the counter. “My brother, you’ll imagine, is out on the veranda.”

“Soul’s not the life of the party? Unbelievable.” Maka’s feigned shock along with the eye roll that accompanied it left Wes chuckling until the amber liquid sat in front of him.

“Would you do me the honor of bringing this out to him?” Wes picked up the glass and offered it to Maka, the ice cubes clinking with the force of the invitation.

“Well…” Maka took the glass and avoided the urge to look around.  _ What if Papa sees? What kind of foolish mess is he going to make if the first thing I do at this party is get a drink and disappear? _

“Unfortunately, I ultimately feel like I’m always asking you to babysit,” Wes let out a protracted breath that unveiled a sympathetic smile. “Reggie’s obviously gone to bed but Soul- well, he struggles to find his place at these things and…” Wes leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Sometimes, I think he wishes he had more to talk to than just Reggie. Would you mind humoring me and being that something tonight? He’d rather be run-through with hot pokers than admit it, but he doesn’t mind your company, and I can say that about very few people.”

Maka examined the liquid, mixing it just as the words revolved around her head.  _ Who does he have? What’s been taken from him? _ She tried to make her exhale even before nodding softly. “Please, just keep Papa busy for a little. I can promise finding me out on the terrace with a drink and a man is the last thing that’ll make for a quiet evening with him.”

“I will try my best, Maka,” Wes cooed triumphantly before instantly veering off into the crowd.

* * *

It was the clack of heels that made him turn, all the venom sitting on his tongue in anticipation of one of the two women who normally haunted him at these engagements. Instead, anything vicious fell away from him as he stared, frozen. “Ms. Albarn.” He was suddenly bashful, a heat coming to his face that he probably hadn’t experienced since before his voice dropped.

“ _ Mr. Evans _ ,” she offered back with a dismissive sigh but still held out the glass in her hand.

His eyes had no power to go to it- any picture other than her in that silky flow of fabric disappearing from his view. 

“Well?” She urged the tumbler forward again, giving off the soft tinkle of ice hitting glass.

Soul cleared his throat, “I assumed you didn’t drink.”

“It’s obviously not for me.” She waited with little patience for his hand and when he finally outstretched it she more than met him halfway, tucking the glass into fingers that she should have realized were trembling slightly. “And it’s not that I  _ don’t _ drink.”

“Then?” Some semblance of cool finally came back to him as he eyed the honey-toned liquid rather than the way that green silk clung to creamy skin.

Maka mind glanced over the question, choosing to make the word look lost as she moved past him to get to the ledge of the balcony, resting her arms on the cool stone. “So is this what you do during parties? Pout on the patio?”

Soul offered a gruff chuckle, “Sure. Don’t normally have company.”

“Mhm,” Maka hummed out the thought. “So all those twenty-something girls in there are here for Wes?”

“Maybe,” he rolled his shoulders weakly with that sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “If you really wanna know, ask Mama.”

That challenge left Maka only with an eye roll in her arsenal since it seemed like that playful glint of teeth from him was all it took to disarm the rest. She pressed that thought away as she latched on to the next:  _ As if your mother would even stoop so low as to speak to me. _

Suddenly his elbow was at hers, his suit jacket, which must have been smothering in the still balmy October nights, rubbing softly against her skin. “How’d you get here?”

“Fairy Godmother.” Maka turned a thin smile to him but it blossomed as he rewarded her with a heavy laugh.

“Explains the dress,” he murmured before following that with a gulp of whiskey that more hit him in the jaw than eased down his throat.

“Because it looks like it’s been made by mice?” Maka dipped her chin down to examine the fine, delicate flow of the material over her toes.

There were a lot of smooth, suave lines to offer here: “ _ Nah, it looks spellbindin’” _ or perhaps the even cheesier  _ “Since you look so enchantin’”  _ but staring at her, seeing that sweet self-consciousness that she wore on her face as eyes that matched her dress moved over what he would consider a beautiful curve of a body he couldn’t breath more than just a few sullen-sounding syllables, “‘s pretty.”

“Once we start a joke, you’re supposed to continue it,” she managed to tease but she still couldn’t bring her eyes to him. Something about the whisper, the way his arm was tucking into hers was giving her those middle-school, pre-puberty nerves that she used to fall into like quicksand.

All that came in reply was a sigh and another rattle of the ice cubes as Soul brought the glass up for a long sip.

Maka spent a miserable moment running her bottom lip through her teeth before she relented, “The dress, the invitation was an apology from your brother.”

His lean increased as his head fell between his arms on the railing.

“Obviously, I was just as excited to get all that attention,” Maka attempted a hiss but it fizzled thanks to the rejection turning into a knot in her gut. She turned as quickly as she could, heart already sprinting as she wanted her legs to even though her heels wouldn’t allow it. Instead, it was a cool palm catching her elbow, stopping her forward momentum but not forcing her to face what she couldn’t.

“Stay,” he grunted. “I’m just… you think Mama’s bad and you add all her little social club friends and their daughters - who I know you’ve met a few of - and it makes for an evening I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

“So you’re asking me to stay because you’re finally admitting I’m somehow  _ worse _ than your worst enemy?” The slide of her chin over her shoulder was achingly slow as she tried to perfect the smile that didn’t want to seem to stick.  _ Tonight doesn’t feel like a joke - it doesn’t feel like the other night, us alone, whatever the hell that was, it feels…  _

“Maka?” Spirit’s voice made her jump but even as it caused her to yank at her elbow, Soul’s steady fingers refused to break the connection. “Why the hell do you have your hand on my daughter?”

Soul sucked his teeth, relaxing his grip almost a finger at a time. “Mr. Albarn, I guess.”

“That’s damn right,” Spirit started the charge but Maka was there to dampen it immediately.

Now the heels didn’t seem to matter, her feet clattering quickly across the cobblestone. “I let you come because you  _ promised _ -”

“Until I see someone roughing up my daughter-” Spirit’s accusing hand was flying towards Soul but Maka was there to meet it, slapping it from the air.

Maka was an inch from him now, words seething from her teeth, “We are  _ not _ screaming about this at a party.”

“They’re playing a good song,” Soul’s solid voice sounded behind her, the tone stripped bare to just the buzz of his baritone. “You should go dance with your father.”

“What?” Maka snapped her head over her shoulder, watching the cool leak over his features to turn that grin into something carved in ice. “Soul-”

“Dance, enjoy the party,” he nodded back towards the glass doors, the people whirling around on the floor. He shook the bourbon slightly, letting the ice cubes clink together. “Thanks for the drink, Ms. Albarn.”

Spirit’s hand closed around hers, but Maka couldn’t bring her head to turn away. Even though she was only moving a few steps at a time, Soul felt miles away especially as he turned back to the balcony, shoulders hunching again to bring his elbows to the edge. Spirit was muttering nonsense, definitely odds and ends that would have boiled her blood if she could bring herself to listen but she couldn’t stop hearing the absence of life in his voice, the chill of his usually warm eyes, and the still solid hold that he had on her even after letting go.

* * *

While Maka had expected a mop of white hair to bring her attention back to the patio it was the appearance of Reggie’s raven black bobbing low, sneaking past the tables to the very place her eyes had been flitting uselessly to all night. Begrudgingly her glare moved to Spirit, catching him utterly in his element, drink in hand and ladies at his elbows. He was too busy with his head below the waters of his own charm to notice that Maka slipped back towards the night air. As the hours had ticked away so had the humidity, leaving just a much needed breeze behind as a reprieve from the lingering warmth of the day. 

She stopped just at the glass, catching the start of the wind and the picture of Soul kneeling with his nephew, the boy’s sullen voice strong enough to reach through the crack. “I heard her again!” There was a mournful hitch at the end, a hiccup of one of those unstoppable childhood sobs.

“Come on, Reggie…” 

“I’m not  _ lying _ ,” came another mournful cry that brought Soul’s soft hand to flatten the hair on the boy’s head.

“Didn’t say you were, but-”

“Mama?” Suddenly, Reggie was whirling out of Soul’s grasp, turning back to the glass doors just as Maka was starting to squeeze a little closer. His little legs broke into a run and before she could even afford it a thought she was leaning down to scoop him as he flung his tiny body into her arms. “Mama, mama, mama,” he was repeating into a fury, his arms circling tightly around her neck as she lifted him carefully into her arms.

“Reggie, it’s me,” Maka tried to correct as gently as she could, but there was no loosening of his hold and more desperate, wailing sobs broke from him.

“Reggie…” Soul started as he rushed forward, getting a hand on Maka’s elbow to pull her further onto the balcony and away from the light. “I’m sorry, Ms. Albarn, he…” He broke off his explanation with a sigh. “I’ll take him.”

“No,” Maka shook her head swiftly, sending Soul’s eyes wide. “He’s probably just half asleep. It’s better not to upset him anymore than he already is.” She took a few more steps into the night, coming shoulder to shoulder with him in the darkness. “Reggie…” She surrounded his name with sweet hushes, her hand coming to his hair as he snuggled his face into the crux of her neck. 

Soul tried to produce motion, but with the heaviness of his heart he didn’t stand a chance. The way she’d snatched Reggie, without denial or fear or anything but complete and utter compassion was rattling in Soul’s head.

“Soul?”

He jumped to attention. “Yeah?”

She had turned to face him somewhere in his resounding thoughts and Soul struggled with the picture, Reggie so tightly tucked into her as if the name he called her rang true. “Is there a way you can get me to his room without walking through the party? I don’t want to cause a scene.”

Soul nodded, “Come this way.” He started to lead her down the stairs but stopped, kneeling next to her. “Gimme your foot.”

“What?” Maka blinked down at him, the strange picture of his hand extended towards her leg leaving her blinking in wonder.

“Heels’ll sink in the grass.” His hand slid down the back of her ankle and lifted slightly, pulling her heel out of the shoe. As her foot hit the cool cement of the walk Soul was pulling off the other, leaving her barefoot before he stood with her shoes clasped in his hand. “Plus, isn’t barefoot what you like?” A little of his smirk had come back alive.

Some of her breath came back to her, the ease in his voice feeding life into her chest. “Are you insinuating I’m a country girl again?” 

“Nah, you’re a northerner, through and through,” he attempted to let that country twang back into his voice, hearing more  _ Gone with the Wind _ than his own voice. She followed him with a soft laugh across the lawn spiked with dew to the front of the house. As soon as they reached concrete again, Soul dropped down, cradling her ankle to send a twitter of electricity up her leg. “Ticklish?” he grinned.

“Your hands are cold,” she hissed. “Somehow, in all of this heat, you’re a  _ corpse _ .”

“What can I say? I’m always cool,” he tried to purr it out but Maka watched his amusement for it wither as his hand shifted to her other leg. It was fading as his fingers dared to stay for just a moment too long, his eyes shooting up to look at her unexpectedly.

Maka held her breath, waiting for what looked like chaos sitting on the tip of his tongue as his eyes stared stormily into hers. The silence broke with a stifled sob from Reggie and Maka moved to smooth his hair again. “Let’s get him back to bed.”

“Yeah,” Soul sighed as he stood, not having to open the doors to the house as servants still bustled to guide guests to and fro. It added camouflage, allowing the two of them to disappear up the stairwell into the darkened lengths of the second floor hallways that were off limits to guests. Soul guided her by the elbow in the dark, moving towards Reggie’s room. 

It was barely a boy’s room - personality only pinned to the walls in forms of various childish sketches that adorned anywhere within those little arms’ reaches. “I thought so,” Maka murmured with amusement as her eyes glanced over the art gallery.

“What?” Soul moved past her towards the bed as his eyes flitted around the room to try to catch whatever had offered her that small bit of joy in her voice.

“He’s a little artist.” The sweetness in her tone was only drowned out by pride, forcing Soul to turn his glance back to her before freezing.

His eyes gave a picture that his mind couldn’t wrap around: Vivienne holding her son. It was only an instant before the dark hair slipped out of the shadow to become blonde again, high cheekbones suddenly rounding back to a cherubic curl, but the green glow of the eyes stayed the same as Maka opened hers.  _ He hears Mama, that’s what he said, wasn’t it? And that was… that was Viv, no doubt about it. _

“What is it?” Maka’s voice was entirely hers again.

“Nothin’,” he barely let fall from his lips. “Here, I’ll-”

“No.” Maka didn’t let him finish, squeezing past Soul to the bed where she arranged Reggie in it with sure and soft hands as if it were her nightly duty. To make matters oh so worse, Soul watched as she slid into the bed next to the boy, propping herself up on an elbow so she could stare down at him lovingly while fingers arranged his hair on the pillow.

“Ms. Albarn…”

“I’m just going to stay with him for a little,” she whispered softly, only giving him a second’s worth of a glance before that tender gaze moved back to the sleeping face. “He just… sounded so sad.”

“What about…”

“The party?” Maka let out a derisive little snort. “It’s not like there’s any dancing partners missing me and Papa’s got more than enough ladies to pay him attention that I’m sure he even forgot I was here. Just…” Her eyes dipped back to him, still somehow glowing in the darkness. “I know it’s a lot to ask but think you can keep your mother busy? I don’t… I think it’d be hard to explain if she somehow found me up here.”

“Sure…” Soul’s feet were blaring to move but nothing came, muscles trapped as her eyes pulled him in, something not so silent being exchanged there, but the words not anything in his vocabulary. “Let me… see you home tonight.”

“Papa’ll hate that,” she laughed softly. “Your mother, too - it’s your party, after all, isn’t it?”

“Maybe they won’t need to know,” Soul offered.

“How sly of you,” Maka murmured before stealing her smile away from him and casting it down on Reggie.

_ Look at me like that _ , thrummed in the back of his mind but he wiped it away with the turn of his head as he moved back to the door. The clear message was to go back to the party, to run interference with his mother so that Maka could…  _ Do what exactly? Or am I just crazy enough to think that’s still partly Viv in there, being with her son? _ He let a derisive laugh fall from his lips only meant for himself before he reached the hallway and started to ease the door shut. It was the soft melody that stopped him, a songbird of a voice trickling gently between the last wedge of the door.

There wasn’t enough room to see but he pressed his ear towards the opening, listening to a song so faint that there weren't words, only elegant dips in her soprano. He could melt into it, feeling it linger into his ear and down his spine just as lively as any Satie piece that came from his fingers. With his head pressed against the doorframe, he sighed, giving into the moment and all the warmth that came with wanting, even if it would be only just there that he’d allow it, just a second of shifting in him.

“Solomon?”

He jumped to attention as he pulled the door shut the rest of the way, cutting off any remnants of the tune. “Mama,” he started low, waving nonchalant hands at her. “I just got Reggie to bed. Let him be.”

“Why on Earth was he up?” She let a fretful look go to the door before narrowing her eyes at him. “Unless you’re making clever excuses as to why you’ve danced with exactly  _ none _ of the ladies here this evening.”

“Ah, yes, your prize piece of meat has spent his evening out on the veranda,” Soul cooed sarcastically.

“Solomon, honestly,” she threw her head dramatically on the turn and Soul took his cue to pick up her elbow and guide her down the stairs.

“Don’t fret, Mama,” Soul intoned blandly. “I’ve got plenty of time before I’m an old maid.”

She shot him a poisonous, scalding glare before pressing the words out in a whisper, “And you invited that Rossignol girl.”

“Mama, she’s an  _ Albarn _ ,” Soul corrected with a slight wash of glee, especially as his mother’s eyes narrowed.

“Her  _ mother _ was a Rossignol and that’s what matters - and her father may be an Albarn but he’s a drunken, philandering lout.”

“I can at least agree with you on the last part…” Soul let his hand slip away as they reached the bottom but found his mother stuck in place, not continuing forward into the bustle of the ballroom. “What is it?”

“You have to start taking this  _ seriously _ ,” the last word she cut to syllables, making each one strike him.

“Mama, I take it all  _ very seriously _ ,” he played the tone right back to her as he gave his best showman wave to display his tired form.

Lenora shook her head in dismay, repeating words that were nothing more than a groove in the record of her brain. “If you’re not going to school, you should  _ at least _ be applying yourself to finding the appropriate bride.”

Soul caught the motion at the top of the stairs, the blonde head popping but then quickly hiding at the picture of the two of them below. He forced his eyes back to his mother, gripping her arms to turn her from even the hope of catching a view of Maka at the top. “Mama, how am I supposed to find a bride when none of them compare to you? And, to let you know, you’re yelling at the wrong son.  _ Darling Wesley _ invited the  _ Albarn  _ girl.”

A red plumage of color leaked up her neck as Lenora chewed through her rage. “Wesley?”

_ Sorry, Wes, but you’re creating a grand diversion right now _ . “Absolutely. Wesley sent the invitation  _ and _ had the dress made for her, I believe.”

That was enough to send Lenora’s feet into a fury, clattering hard against the marble as she marched back in search of her elder son.

“That was cruel,” but Maka was still hiding a laugh behind the back of her hand as she descended the stairs.

“Ah, Wes will survive,” Soul shrugged. “Ready to take that walk?”

“As long as you don’t mind if I lose the shoes…” Maka’s eyes dipped back to the bottom of her dress, the dew and grass stains already peeking around the edge of her heels.

“As long as I don’t have to carry them this time.” He started for the door, half hoping she wouldn’t follow, that somehow the party would pull her in and she’d show him just how little allure he had, but he instantly heard the soft patter behind him as her heels were forgone even before leaving the cold floors.

Outside, Maka stuck to the grass, enjoying the tickle as his shoes crunched into the gravel of the walkway. “So, really, is this how you spend every party?”

“Just about,” Soul lamented. “I always disappear one way or another.”

She waved her shoes at her side like a pendulum, adopting the slow rhythm of their meandering. “But you’re supposed to be finding a  _ bride _ …”

He grunted, “You heard that, did’ya?” 

“It all sounds very antiquated- like you’re some  _ prince _ ,” the laugh that she produced collapsed under the words.

“Mama sees us that way,” he sucked in a breath of air, puffing out his chest haughtily, “We are  _ Evans _ after all! First settlers of this town, building our wealth through the sweat and tears of others. No wonder we’re cursed.”

The word struck her, planting her toes into the earth. He took a few more ragged steps until he only half turned to her, eyes trapped at her feet.

“Town’s all gossip,” Soul muttered. “You must have heard by now.”

While the answer was simple, Maka never bartered much in that and from the look on Soul’s face as his deep despair traced the lines of the grass around her toes, she was sure he didn’t want it. “Do you really think you’re cursed?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand along the sweat on the back of his neck. “Logical me says no.”

“But  _ not-logical _ you?”

“Has plenty of questions,” he shrugged before turning away, starting the walk back up the path. They should have cut a diagonal, drawing a line from the road to the back of her house but Soul continued forward towards the main drive and Maka made no moves to stop him.

When they reached the head, standing at the crossroads and staring out into the shadowy woods that buzzed alive with creatures, Maka dipped her shoulder to meet his arm, knocking him a step off balance. “Do you think it matters to me?”

“I think…” he muttered, but it broke into silence that was filled with the unstill night. Finally, after a trembling swallow, “It should.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she shot back at him with a sharp laugh.

“Then…” he turned his head to her, finally gracing her with that sly smile. “You’re a silly Yankee who doesn’t believe in superstitions that are bound to bite you in the ass.”

Her laughter trickled off into the night as she looked away from him and towards the direction of the next walk, the one that would take her down to the dark front of her own house. “I should get going.”

“Yeah, way past your bedtime,” he crooned.

“Idiot,” she muttered but still threw a smile over her shoulder. “Tell Wes no more dresses.”

He nodded, still letting that grin eat at his cheeks even though a bit of solemnity drifted into his voice. “What about parties?”

She shrugged, “I think I prefer the disappearing part. Good night.”

That fine silk hugged into the dip of her lower back while he watched her muscles flex with each swing of her shoes. “Ms. Albarn.”

She paused but didn’t turn.

Soul cleared his throat to force the playfulness back into his voice as his smirk started to fade away. “I think the best reply would have been, _ it’s spellbindin’ _ ... for the dress that is.”

Maka brought her head over her shoulder. “I would have guessed something more along the lines of  _ fit for a princess _ .”

“I certainly don’t think you’re a princess,” he shook his head slowly. “Not at all.”

She raised an eyebrow, a quirk at the corner of her mouth threatening a smile. “Should I take that as an insult?”

“Far from it,” he offered his hands up in innocence. “G’night, Ms. Albarn.”

She let one last smile radiate towards him in the dark before she started the walk again, steps mostly silent through the grass.

Soul should have moved, started back down the walk or, as part of him seemed to scream, ran forward to catch her and tell her what he really thought. Instead, he stayed stuck at the crossroads.


	20. Life as an Echo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: discussions of suicide, vomiting

Maka set the tea kettle on the stove and then leaned over the sink, letting her eyes search the mist that was slowly dissipating in the backyard. Shifting between the trees and the grayed air was a tiny black head of hair and Maka felt her heart add another beat to its usual rhythm. She waited for the secondary, shocking white one to suddenly appear but there was none, just that slow, plodding movement of the shaggy raven tresses that forced her brow to furrow. She turned down the burner and walked out the back door, the dew kissing at her toes as she shuffled through the grass towards the trees. “Reggie?”

The boy was crouched at a bush, a stick in his hand as he dug away at the mud. “Good morning, Ms. Albarn.”

“Maybe you can start to call me Maka,” she offered a sweet smile but the boy did nothing but strictly shake his head back.

“Uncle told me not to.”

Maka resisted the wrinkle in her lip. “Speaking of, where is he today? Shouldn’t he be with you?”

“He’s sick again,” Reggie answered mournfully, his chin dipping into his hands with glum finality.

“Again?” Maka frowned. _Probably too much bourbon last night - that idiot._

“Sometimes after he takes the medicines…” The tiny boy let that trail off with a weak shrug.

 _Great, so you instantly judged him again, just like everyone else_. Maka rolled her eyes only for herself before crouching down to level with Reggie. “What kind of sick? Like a fever or…?”

“Puking,” Reggie offered back matter-of-factly.

Maka wrinkled her nose before she shot back to her feet. “Would you like to help me make something for that?”

“What do you mean?” Those fiery red eyes snapped up to her with interest, blinking softly.

“There’s a few things we can make to help settle his stomach,” Maka added a sharp nod, watching the surety bring joy to the boy’s face. “So we’ll make a little care package for him.”

“Really?” Reggie was up on his feet before she could offer an affirmative, that tiny but tight hand coming to hers.

“Let’s go.” Maka led him along back to the house, pleased to see a smile that slightly resembled his uncle’s finally pulling at the boy’s lips. “What does he usually do when he gets sick like this?”

“Stays in bed,” Reggie muttered. “He doesn’t let anyone near him, like it’s catching, but I know it’s really the medicine. I heard him and Papa yell about it once.”

Hesitation should have bit her tongue in place but she found the words so easily drifting past her teeth. “They fought over it?”

She could see the careful consideration pass over that sweet brow of his as she opened the door for him, waving him into a kitchen where the kettle was already coming to a soft hum. “I think it’s a secret.”

 _And if you’re an Evans, you sure know how to keep those_. Maka pressed air through her nose to wash away the thought. “Then you don’t have to tell me, Reggie. Let’s get you a chair.” She made good on her promise, buttoning her lips as she pulled one of the chairs from the table to the side of the stove. As he was climbing up, Maka was settling a pot on the other burner before moving towards the fridge to take out the oversized Tupperware.

“What’s that?” Reggie motioned towards the container as Maka opened it and went for a spoon.

“Rice porridge.” She ladled a hefty serving into the small pot. “Here, you’re going to stir while it warms up.”

“It smells funny.”

“Because it’s got nothing in it,” Maka shrugged before depositing the leftovers back in the fridge, “but that will be better for an upset stomach. When you eat it, you can add whatever you like to it.”

Reggie wrinkled his nose and shook his head with aggressive surety, “I won’t eat it.”

Maka grinned, “More for him, then.” She turned to the cabinet, starting to scrounge through the myriad of tins, looking for the gold scrawling writing on a black background.

“What’s that?” Reggie repeated.

“Ginger tea.” Maka opened the lid before displaying it to him, watching that nose wrinkle again.

“Smells strong.”

“It’s just another thing good for your stomach.”

“None of it smells good so how is Uncle going to _stop_ puking?” Reggie seemed incredulous, even with Maka giggling in reply.

 _So much for Southern manners._ “Think you can trust me?” Maka raised her eyebrows hopefully and the little boy nodded, leaving Maka to go back to the work of arranging containers to easily transport the goods. She sprinkled some of the tea in the strainer and grabbed the whistling kettle before pouring it over top, the room exploding with the sharp scent of ginger. Maka was sure she’d heard another soft “yuck” from Reggie’s direction but when she looked he was hard at work, stirring the porridge diligently. She leaned over his shoulder, “Excellent work, Reggie. I think we’re ready to see your uncle. Would you mind putting the chair back?”

Reggie hopped to his next job as Maka moved the porridge to the short, stout thermos. With all burners off and one goodie per person, the pair struck back out the porch door and into the yard. Maka had been smart enough to wear shoes this time, sure that Mrs. Evans would have a fit if some girl with muddy feet walked into her living room. She was working her lip into her teeth at the thought. _How the hell am I going to ask to be let in? I’m with Reggie, but as soon as his mother gets sight of me…_

“This way,” Reggie seemed to grab the thought right out of her head, not moving towards the front of the grand estate but instead a lower side entrance, one that practically looked like they’d be walking into a basement rather than the house.

“Why this way?” Maka could kick herself for the curiosity but it still bubbled from her.

“When Uncle’s sick, Granmama is usually…” While Reggie searched for the word, they breached the doorway. It was just as Maka had guessed, an outside entrance to a store-cellar, but Reggie turned them up a secondary staircase that brought them to the back of the kitchen.

“Well, then, let’s be quick so we don’t bother her,” Maka offered to finish the wandering thought and found Reggie nodding in agreement.

There were a few servants bustling here and there, some skeptical glances but as they moved Reggie greeted each one with that soft Southern lilt that seemed to allay all fears. They didn’t use the grand staircase but instead another back entrance, one that brought them to a wide, ornately decorated hallway. The walls were lined with hand painted portraits, severe looking men and elegant women watching her as she moved along. Eyes followed her until Reggie reached a door, turning the knob without even knocking.

“I said I’m sick today,” came an irritated groan to welcome the creak of the door.

The stuffy heat of the room slapped her in the face along with the acrid smell of vomit lingering in the air. _What are you doing suffering like this?_ The thought struck barbs into her heart but she pushed forward, meeting droopy red eyes that immediately popped in shock.

“Ms. Albarn…” Soul tried to collect himself but it was useless. He was barely dressed and mostly collapsed in bed, a sick bucket in his grip that hung over the side. “Reginald, you turncoat,” he muttered completely breathlessly and mostly for himself.

“Ms. Albarn said if you were sick, you should have these.” Reggie held the thermos high over his head in victory as he moved to Soul’s bedside.

“Reggie, open the windows, please.” Maka plucked the container from the tiny fingers before moving it to the bedside table.

“Ms. Albarn-” Soul started again but it was snapped from his mouth as now with hands free, Maka was leaning over him, taking the can from his grip. He wanted to resist but fighting over a bucket of puke seemed like a recipe for disaster so he relented, letting her take it from him and move to the on-suite bathroom. “Reginald,” he hissed as soon as the blonde head had disappeared.

Reggie glanced at his uncle from his perch at the window as he opened it.

“You let her in?”

Reggie nodded with obstinate surety. “She said she had stuff to make you better.”

Soul flopped back into the bed with a groan. “Get me a shirt and some shorts, traitor.”

The little boy was scurrying towards the dresser when Maka returned. “Don’t bother with getting dressed.” It took every ounce of mental perseverance to keep pink from her cheeks as she murmured that. “If you don’t feel well, it’s not a big deal.” _Not a big deal that you’re in a man’s room with him just in his boxers and a sheet tangled in his legs._

“Mama’d have a conniption,” Soul offered as quickly as he could, hand still beckoning at Reggie to hurry on his way. The little boy gave one more glance in Maka’s direction before doing as he was told and brought the garments to Soul. Muscles were no better than putty at this point so it took effort and the last bit of Soul’s strength to get the shirt over his head. He looked at the shorts with a withering breath before he pulled the sheet up instead. “Reggie, go keep Granmama busy.”

“But-”

Even with the aching tiredness, Soul managed a healthy glare at the little boy. “You brought Ms. Albarn here, now it’s your responsibility to keep her out of trouble, isn’t it?”

Reggie kicked at the throw rug. “I guess.”

“So, Granmama- then come back in fifteen minutes to escort your guest out.”

There were a few errant grumbles before Reggie skirted past Maka to the door, closing it behind him.

“Can I have my sick bucket?” Soul offered out a weak hand in Maka’s direction. 

Maka followed directions and handed off the bucket but also moved with the gesture, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, watching as Soul’s eyes darted in the proximity. “How long have you been throwing up?” 

“I’m fine,” Soul let out lifelessly as he moved the pail back to its usual resting place.

“You could get dehydrated-”

“It’s nothing new,” his tone came sharper and Maka watched his muscles tighten, his body becoming a clenched fist.

She sighed softly before moving to open the containers. “I brought you some tea and porridge and if you try to argue about it, Reggie will get upset.”

He lifted an eyebrow, “Sounds like blackmail.”

“Maybe it is,” Maka shrugged as she poured the golden liquid into the cup top. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbled as he managed to get up on his elbow, taking the cup from her and bringing it close enough to his lips to blow. 

“Does this happen with all the _cures_ ?” Maka let the wonder get the better of her, but she could still feel the tingling creep of shame on her neck. _You barge into his room, his sick bed, and then insist on secrets._

“Just the voodoo, sometimes.” He had no hope to eye anywhere but the liquid, watching it ripple under his breath. There was neither comfort in the silence nor her voice but he was starting to wish she’d say something again, filling the absence of time wasted on just cooling breaths. He managed a sip, that tart, astringent flavor hitting his mouth as at least a welcome change from the puke sour. 

“How often is ‘ _sometimes_?’” Her attention was on the porridge, stirring it with such concentration that he was sure she almost hadn’t said any words at all, but a crinkle to her eyebrows told him otherwise.

Soul grumbled in defeat, “Most times.”

Her lips pursed, words ready to be said but thought better of until her heart couldn’t take anymore. “Why do it then? If none of them are guaranteed and if Blair or Nana Rung haven’t _done_ anything by now- and you said you don’t even exactly _believe_ -”

“Ms. Albarn,” his tone chided the sentence to an end. “If it has to be someone, then it should be me.”

The small wrinkle between her brows turned into a crack. “What does that mean?”

His eyes slunk upward from the cup, catching those delicate green glowing with a rage meant just for him. _Or at least that’s what you’ve been hoping, huh, you little bastard? You’ll take anything from her, even if it’s spite because she’s somethin’. Who the hell knows what that somethin’ is._ “Sufferin’ should be for me to do. Reggie, Wes, they’ve suffered enough. If somethin’ hurts, it’ll just be me, but if somethin’ finally works…” he let that trail off with a sad shrug.

“You’re a guinea pig,” Maka huffed.

“Guess so.” Soul’s head slumped back in the pillow as he let the cup rest against the bed. “Maybe Blair’s just trying to kill me at this point. Put me out of my misery. Can’t say I blame her.”

Her eyes closed against the picture and the frustration of it all. “Soul, you shouldn’t-”

“Ms. Albarn,” that seemed to be his favorite correction and at this point he was getting well-versed in it, even with exhausted eyes lulled shut. “I’m going to hurt someone someday, so maybe it’s better-”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

His eyelids pulsed open, bringing red eyes back to her.

Maka stuttered through a breath and he suddenly realized she was on the verge of tears, making him unable to even think of drifting off into sleep. “I’d hit you but you’re holding hot tea and I’m afraid we would both get hurt, but you can’t talk like that,” she let the end fall to a low hiss before she was on her feet, putting distance between the two of them. “I don’t get how you could believe any of that.” She was clearly speaking to the wall, the shame of yelling at him and somehow egging herself onto almost loosing saltwater from her eyes forcing her glance elsewhere. “I don't think you’ve ever hurt anyone.”

“I’ve never been in love- or at least not _really_ ,” he murmured back with a sullen easiness that made her spine straighten. “Don’t tell me nosy Ms. Albarn hasn’t figured it out- you’ve heard enough rumors and pieced it together.”

“I…” Maka started but she shook her head.

“What you’re about to do is called lying,” Soul answered softly, “and that’s not much like you.”

She tried to shake her head again but she found herself motionless besides her fingers worrying into the edge of her dress.

“You know, when Wes married her, he didn’t love her,” Soul started just above a whisper and she could hear him shift back in the sheets, collapsing against it all. “Did what my Mama wants me to do now- marry for added wealth, station. Viv was quiet and- what’s that word for someone who follows whatever you tell them?- _meek_? Wasn’t until Reggie was born, when Wes changed- grew into it, especially the way she was with their baby. Can’t say I blame him- she was sweet and beautiful,” that purged so mournfully from his lips that Maka felt it as a dagger to her chest. “It only took a month of him feelin’ that for… for it to happen.”

“But ask the sheriff and he’ll tell you it was a suicide.” Bitterness resided solely in that word, worse than the washed out flavor of vomit on his tongue. “Ask me and… I want to believe it wasn’t my brother, but… I don’t get what I want much, Ms. Albarn.” He let out a weak chuckle, breathless and shaky with his need to break between the words. “So I don’t fall in love, that’s my gamble to try never to hurt anyone but… I know that’s easier said than done. So maybe my hope is to pull a James Dean or wait for Blair to poison me for turning her down one too many times.”

“Soul…” She desperately wanted to chide him, to somehow force him to accept that the world wasn’t made of witchcraft and superstition but when she finally turned back to him, usually bronzed skin turned ashen and eyes dull and lifeless it was the only word that could come to mind: _cursed_.

The door creaked and while Maka had expected that mess of black hair to be back but where her eyes hit was a chest and as her glance followed upwards it was a surprised flash of red again, that face just a little softer than Soul’s but still practically identical. “Oh, I thought I heard voices. I’m terribly sorry to interrupt…” Wes flashed a coy smile at his brother before smoothing it out and settling it on Maka. “It’s so kind of you to look in on my brother while he’s ill, Maka.”

“It was Reggie,” Soul croaked, sending a sour grimace to Wes who was completely uninterested in its burn. “Your son’s turning out to be just as much a busy-body as you.”

“Reginald is far too young to have any ulterior motives, I assure you,” Wes cooed.

“So maybe he was acting on his father’s,” Soul grumbled back.

“I take offense at the accusation, dear brother.” Wes punctuated that with a wink in Maka’s direction, something for her to catch and let fumble over her mind a few times. “But you can ask him yourself since I believe I hear the distinct pitter-patter of those little feet…”

On cue, the little body slipped through the doorway. “Oh, Papa, you’re here.”

Wes’s hand slid over the messy locks before he offered a sweet smile to Reggie. “And you’re just in time to escort Ms. Albarn, aren’t you?

“I can…” Reggie glanced suspiciously between his father and uncle before letting his eyes settle on Maka. “Are you ready to go?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, Reggie.” Maka smiled and extended a hand, letting the little fingers wrap around hers before turning her eyes back to Soul. She wanted to glare, to send another stubborn message but seeing him prone, collapsed in bed just left her with melancholy drifting over the green of her eyes. “You can return the containers whenever. I hope you feel better.”

Soul replied by closing his eyes and throwing a hand over them, a mumble barely escaping from him, “Thank you, Ms. Albarn.” He listened to the footsteps, counting the pair but knowing the third was motionless, watching him. “What is it, Wes?”

“We’re about to have the same fight we usually have, Soul, are you prepared for it?”

“I’m sick,” he moaned. “Doesn’t that earn me some sort of rain-check?”

“It most certainly _does not_ , so please, sit up - you’re almost spilling your tea as is.”

He wanted to kick his legs in futility but the energy for that wouldn’t come, leaving the only choice to do as his brother had instructed and barely push himself to sit against the headboard. He brought the cup to his lips again, testing another sip and hoping it would continue to overpower the bitter flavors in his mouth. His eyes refused to go further than the bedspread. “I don’t know why we’re talkin’ about it again.”

“You know exactly why,” Wes charged back. “Soul, you have to live your life.”

“I am,” his tone was a low rumble in his chest.

“By poisoning yourself on a regular basis?” Wes’s accusations were a broken record but they always still slid under Soul’s skin, old wounds that never healed. “Or by pushing every time someone tries to care for you? Keeping every possible person at arm’s length after Viv-”

“Don’t, Wes,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

Wes moved to his bedside to collapse onto the mattress and force his brother to face him. “Not talking about her is what’s killing you, Soul- what’s keeping you from moving forward!”

“What’s there to talk about, Wes?” The words drew blood as they raked his throat. “All there is- the only _fuckin’_ truth is that if you didn’t kill her, _I did_ , so what the hell do you want me to say?”

“What?” Wes clutched at Soul’s leg, afraid that he might bolt before anything more could exit the wound he has so unceremoniously opened. “Soul, you had _nothing_ to do with her death, you-”

“Sure- it was the _fuckin’_ curse,” he moaned hoarsely. “Which means you loved her and _you_ killed her, Wes, but if we’re livin’ in reality, the one where she took her own life- Whose fault is it then?”

“Hers,” Wes whispered back, not falling into the rage that was coursing from every inch of Soul’s skin.

In the quiet came the return of those feet, that sweet little voice starting as soon as the door was open again. “I sent away Ms. Albarn!” Reggie offered dutifully before jumping up on Soul’s bed. Wes watched as it all instantaneously melted from Soul, swept easily behind the mask his brother always wore.

“Reginald, mind your uncle,” Wes scolded lifelessly, watching the futility of the argument settle in.

“It’s fine,” Soul muttered before snaking an arm around the little boy and pulling him the rest of the way into his lap. Without hesitation, little arms slung around his neck.

“Trying to avoid the rest of the conversation I see,” Wes muttered.

Soul grimaced in reply, “You caught me.”

Wes let loose a trembling exhale before getting to his feet and turning back to the door, opening it with a frustrated swing. “I’ll let Mother know you’re indisposed today.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Soul answered weakly as he watched his brother go. _Go, Wes, because answerin’ that question means nothin’ to me. I’ll never let the fault be hers._ He wanted to disappear into the sheets, cease breathing and become one with the mattress, but he knew tiny little red eyes were studying him. He let his glare fall to his tea instead, making the little boy wriggled and squirmed. “OK, ask whatever it is, Reggie.”

“Why don’t you like Ms. Albarn?” Reggie peered quizzically into his face as if it would produce the answer.

Soul grunted in reply to the question before loosening his hold on the boy. He slid back down into the bed, careful not to toss his tea in the process. His head ended up on his bicep with the cup sitting just in front of his nose. Reggie took up the normal position of leaning over his shoulder, his knife of a chin digging into the meat of Soul’s arm. “I like her just fine, Reggie.”

“No, you don’t,” Reggie corrected. “You’re mean to her. You make fun of her and… she brought you something today and you just-”

“I said thank you,” Soul grumbled. _Great, a lesson in manners from a five-year-old._

“You said it like Granmama does!”

 _And now he’s telling me I act like my mother!_ Soul shot a glare Reggie’s way but found the little face scrunched up in resistance.

“So, _why_?” came back as a desperate urging.

“Why not?” Soul posed back playfully, watching the wrinkle on Reggie’s forehead deepen.

“She’s _nice_!” Reggie was up off his chin now, digging hands into Soul’s shoulder to give him a firm and unwelcomed shake. “She’s pretty, too, and she knows things, lots of things, and she’s not scared of salamanders and…” 

The list was surely infinite in Reggie’s mind but Soul watched him ponder it some more before interjecting, “Do _you_ like Ms. Albarn?”

“Of course,” Reggie laughed at Soul’s foolishness.

“Reggie…” Soul began. “Last night… when you were with Ms. Albarn…” He wanted to cut away the words, banish the fictitious nature of them but there was no hope in the face of his own stubborn grip on the curse. “When you talk to Ms. Albarn, do you feel like you’re seein’- talkin’ to your mama?”

Reggie paused, his forefinger trailing a line on Soul’s shoulder. “Sorta…” Another worried wrinkle came to his brow. “It’s not that they’re the same, it’s just that… Mama comes with Ms. Albarn. Like a shadow.”

Soul sat up slowly so he could deposit his tea before turning to Reggie and grasping him by the shoulders. “ _With_ her? Like you can see your mama?” _Like when she was holdin’ you- the black hair, the eyes, maybe even a little of her voice was there!_

“No, not see,” Reggie shook his head firmly, “but I told you, I heard her. It’s like I hear Ms. Albarn’s voice and then I hear Mama’s right after, like when I yell really loud in the tree.”

“An echo,” Soul murmured.

“Yeah!” Reggie jumped with the realization. “An echo!”

“So they say the same things?” _I can’t believe you’re giving into this too. First the curse and now you’re listening to a kindergartener telling you his dead mother speaks through the neighbor girl. Get a grip, Evans._

Another frantic shake moved the black mop of hair on Reggie’s head askew.

“But it doesn’t scare you?” Soul narrowed his eyes at his nephew.

“No, why would it?” Reggie blinked at him. “I told you, Ms. Albarn’s nice and Mama’s nice so…” he shrugged to finish.

“Have you…” Soul sent a sideways glance out the window as if he could see her there. “Have you told Ms. Albarn about that? About your mama?”

“No,” Reggie answered with a grown incredulity that made a stark laugh fall from Soul’s lips in reply. “You said we don’t talk about Mama to other people. It’s a secret.”

Soul sighed at the weight of the word. “Good listenin’ ears, Reggie,” he muttered half-heartedly but still watched it settle as a reward in Reggie’s heart. “But… Ms. Albarn- do you want to tell her the secret?”

“I… like telling her things,” the hesitation was obvious in his little voice, amplified by the fidget in his form. “I don’t know why, but it’s like she has better ears.”

Soul chuckled, “Yeah, Reggie, I think you’re right.” He settled back in the bed, finding Reggie daringly plopping to his front, head close to his on the pillow. “What now? More questions?”

“Can you like her, _please_?” The pleading in his voice would have bowled Soul over if not for the bed.

 _Oh, Reggie, I like her alright._ Soul let a deep breath reverberate in his lungs. “You and your father…”

Reggie’s brow furrowed deeply. “What about Papa?”

“Nevermind.” Soul reached out, gently tousling Reggie’s hair before he let his hand, so giant in comparison to the boy’s, cover his cheek. “Listen, I’ll be nice to Ms. Albarn.”

“You will?” Reggie squealed as he stripped the hand from his face so he could have his full sight back.

“Sure,” he nodded solemnly, trying to keep his face from twisting anywhere close to a smile. _I just… I can’t let her be that much of an echo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a side note: I know I'm publishing a bunch today but that's mostly because this chapter and the one before were actually the first things I ever wrote for this fic. I'm kind of caught up to all of my pre-written material, so posting may actually slow down to non-robot levels.


	21. Dying Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: discussions of death (child death), mentions of suicide

Maka squished the soft foam of the earplugs, molding them back into place to create a fuzzy silence as Liz loaded the 9mm Springfield XD. It was only supposed to be a brief interlude since technically this was to be a study session, but, as always, the customer came first.

“This is the XD-M Elite model…” Liz started but Maka fiddled with the plugs again to drown it out.

While Maka’s adoration for the Thompsons had most certainly blossomed, her love for guns had not. She kept her head down, tracing poetry lines in her book as the controlled pops started. It didn’t take more than a few shots before Patty was sidling up next to her, bumping shoulders. The proximity fed some desperately hungry part of Maka, the way Patty leaned in and rubbed her cheek against Maka’s shoulder. From the buzzing against her skin, Maka could guess that Patty was chirping some sweet song but there would be no hearing it until the gunfire was done.

Motion made Maka lift her eyes, finding Liz slipping the gun back in the case, the man with her nodding amiably as Liz’s lips continued to move. Maka finally reached for the plugs, letting Patty’s voice flutter back to her. “If the curse is a thing, why does little Reggie have black hair?”

“Because maybe the curse isn’t a thing,” Maka corrected with a huff. “Maybe it’s just Lenora and…”

“Percy,” Patty chimed.

“Percy,” Maka repeated with a modicum of disgust.  _ Percy? Wesley? Solomon? Reginald? Ugh. _

“Bad names are apparently a Evans’s family curse, too,” Patty crinkled her nose in sympathy. “Though, Soul’s grandpa was Rhys. That’s not  _ so _ bad, but his grandma was  _ Muriel _ .”

Maka exchanged another painful look with Patty before the two erupted into giggles. “But grandpa Rhys was the one who started the curse?”

Patty nodded, “Yup. Crossed a witch. Apparently, he was sleeping with some witchy farm girl and knocked her up right before he was supposed to get married to another girl from a very successful family.”

“ _ Muriel _ ?” 

“Actually, no,” Liz finally popped in as she walked over while flicking the bills in her hand. “First, Rhys was supposed to marry Cassandra Sullivan, but she killed herself. That was after the whole mess with- oh, what was her name?” Liz huffed before she jammed the bills in her pocket. She dove into her backpack, rummaging through papers before she took out a thick binder. After flicking through a few tabs, her finger rolled down the page as she flopped on her butt in front of the two of them. “Seren Meyrick!” she cried victoriously.

“Did you seriously bring your curse research to a study session?” Maka wanted to be incredulous but there was no way to dampen the interest as her eyes swept over the patched together pages in front of Liz.

“Well,” Liz rolled the consonant as she put on a charming smile. “I kind of wanted to see if  _ you _ had any information since, you know, you’ve been hanging out with the Evans boys.”

“I wouldn’t  _ exactly _ call it hanging out,” Maka nibbled into her lip before continuing. “I mean, Reggie’s great but I still can’t figure out what Soul thinks of me. I think Soul tolerates me…? ”

“Which definitely matters,” Patty added with a wink.

“Cut that out!” Maka nudged her with a sharp elbow. “I feel like… it’s like we keep seeing each other at our worst- it’s like a contest of who’s more a mess with sweet little Reggie in the middle.” She tossed the earplugs in her lap as she rubbed a hand over her face. “So maybe we’re friends? He’s always… so fussy but it seems like each time I feel like I’m about to lose it he’s just  _ there _ . And not that he puts on some great big production, but he-” Maka let the rest stream away in her mind:  _ Sits quietly with it. Listens. Doesn’t press. Just  _ is  _ and lets me be whatever I need to be without being one way or another and- _

“Is cursed,” Liz filled in slightly inquisitively, leaning closer, “and he believes it, right? I heard he tries all these treatments.”

Maka entirely forced blankness onto her face, resisting the urge to bite into her lip.  _ That’s not fair. Those are his secrets. _ “But there isn’t a curse.”

Patty finally detached from Maka, sitting up only to collapse in her sister’s direction to lay into the book. “I mean, Seren scrawled it in her own blood.” She pressed the book out of Liz’s hands and onto the ground in between them. 

Maybe it was the black and white or the poor quality that kept the rush of despair from hitting her immediately, but the longer that Maka stared at the photograph, the more that wave threatened by lapping away at any ease left in her heart. A woman, bathed in blood at the foot of a tree, her finger pointing prophetically at a litter of bloody letters in the dust.  _ Curse you Rhys Evans. _

“Rumor has it she left a note, too, pinned to her breast.” Liz pointed to a gray wobble in the photograph that could have been a letter tucked near the woman’s armpit. “That since Rhys deserted  _ their _ son, he would only bare sons that were cursed to murder the women they loved- to follow the sins of their father.”

“She was pregnant?” Maka barely warbled the word out.

“ _ Was _ being the operative word,” Liz sighed as she turned the page, blotting out the bloody image. “That sheet was there for a reason. That blood wasn’t from her wrists- she made sure to show him what he abandoned.” 

Patty grimaced, “I hate that part.”

_ Her baby? _ That churned the anguish in her gut, bringing that wave to a tsunami even without the image in front of her.  _ How could she? Is that even possible? Could a woman actually…? _ “No,” came as her only answer.

“You think all that rage, all that hatred: of course the Evans would be cursed. Cursed for a million generations.” Liz flipped a few more pages before her fingers seemed to hesitate, running along the outside of the page. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask you, Maka.”

Maka tried to gain purchase on the moment with fingers that dug into the earth. “What?”

“Honest, Maka, these pages,” Liz tapped at the edge again. “These we started before we knew you. If you wanted to know about the Rossignol stuff, well, Patty and I have some info but…”

_ One burned, the next bloody, the last mad, and now me _ , hummed in her head again. “Which one- which Rossignol?”

“The original,” Liz answered tentatively as her finger finally found its way to turning the page. “Technically, between the Gentleman’s Agreement with Japan and the The Johnson-Reed Act, your great-grandmother never should have made it here at all, and with no  _ actual _ documentation for her, well, safe to say how ever she got here wasn’t entirely legal.” Some relief washed over Maka as the turn only brought a page of notes, not another black and white monstrosity of an image. “But by all accounts, she was young, beautiful, and was first named a Rossignol for her voice.”

“Her voice?” Maka’s brow furrowed.

“Apparently her voice was so sweet she charmed her way into the afterlife,” Patty shrugged off the ridiculousness of it with an ease that left Maka speechless. “Rossignol is a nightingale, one of the best singers in the woods, so I guess the French-folk gave it to her for that reason. That and some fancy explanation for her being a medium.”

“Or,” Liz wagged a finger. “Birds are psychopomps- though I’m not exactly sure I want to credit the bayou people with the depth of meaning on this one.”

“Psychopomps?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, the word seemed familiar to Maka but it was like trying to find something at the bottom of stirred up lake water.

“Escorts for the dead.” Liz poked the page, outlining another cut and paste job from some long forgotten and now mutilated encyclopedia.

“Kind of like that Alfred Hitchcock movie,” Patty added with a giggle just to receive Liz’s glare. “Seriously!” her laugh continued to twitter as her sister’s features turned more severe. “It’s always a  _ bunch _ of them. It’s never one, but a flock hangin’ around, waiting for someone to drop to guide them to the afterlife.”

All the swelling calls echoed in the back of Maka’s mind, the symphonies she had heard in her sleep.  _ Birds leading the dead. As if they’re leading them to me. As if they’re calling me to the trail, to see the last things those poor creatures want me to see. _

“Maka?” It was Liz’s voice but Patty’s hand on her arm, bringing Maka back to the reality that she had dug her fingers into the dirt, raking angry lines. “I’m- I’m sorry if-”

“No,” Maka shook her head quickly, trying to banish the sounds reverberating there. “It’s fine, just-”

“If you don’t want to know…” Patty tried to comfort her with soft fingers trailing along the back of her arm.

“No, I do,” Maka murmured as she shook her head. “Actually… all of it. I need you to tell me as much as you can and then find out whatever else.”

“Seriously?” Liz reached for her as well, another loving hand touching Maka’s arm. “The stuff that happened to them… it’s Seren-grade stuff. People around here weren’t kind, especially not to someone  _ different _ .”

Maka only smiled bitterly. “Enough people have told me, Liz: Nothing here stays a secret forever.”


	22. Take It or Leave It

Blake didn’t bother to stand, just angling his head so he was yelling close enough to the kitchen window. “Hey, Maka!”

“Blake, just get up,” Stein mumbled from his seat next to his son. Even with his tone, an amused smile was creeping up his cheeks since one way or another, this would end in some entertainment.

“Nah, she can hear me.” Blake shot a grin at him before tipping back to the window and barking, “Maka!”

“What?” Her face was almost pressed against the screen after having to hoist herself up against the sink to get close enough.

“You seen Soul?”

“I’m not in charge of him,” Maka spat back and disappeared from view as if that would end the conversation.

“I know you hung with Eggie,” Blake’s volume was at blaring levels, waiting for that face to pop back again.

“Reggie,” her disembodied voice snapped back.

Stein chuckled.

“But like without the kid- you seen him since the party?” This wasn’t getting old for Blake as he simply craned his neck further back and assaulted the screen with each word.

“He was sick,” she came back matter-of-factly before amending, “but that was over a week ago.”

“Weird,” Blake still barked it, staring at the window and waiting.

There was the shuffling of plates, some clanking and the running of water but suddenly it fell silent.

Blake let the chair legs slap back to the ground, sitting up straight and turning his attention to the door. Stein slowly followed his gaze, blinking as it swung open and Maka erupted out onto the lawn.

“Interesting,” Stein commented as he followed the swish of Maka’s hair with each determined step. “What are you up to?” Deviousness wasn’t far from his own expression as he turned to Blake, finding a smirk on his son’s face.

“Just haven’t seen Soul.” This he summed up with an effortless shrug before leaning in the chair again, turning his head to watch Maka disappear in the line of trees.

“Which troubles you, why exactly?” Stein purred through a smirk.

“Shouldn’t you be askin’ why it bothers her?” Blake answered with a chuckle.

“I can imagine.” Stein’s sigh started to erase the power of his smile but a wisp of it still held strong. “Maybe I was wrong about the hair.”

“What?” Blake turned with interest now, raising his eyebrows in expectation of the answer. 

“She’s inherited a love of troubled men,” Stein chuckled softly as he started up from the chair. “Don’t stick your nose too far into that.”

Blake snickered but quelled it as Stein started back into the house. Just as he was disappearing from view, Blake barked, “Trust me, they’re doing most of it on their own.”

* * *

“Oh,” Maka couldn’t stop the gasp, especially at the sight of a grown man rather than a little boy half stuck in the crevice of the tree.

“Reggie’s not here,” Soul intoned vacantly before bringing his eyes back to the dark innerworkings of the alcove.

Maka paused as her fingers danced along the edge of the willow. “Are you-”

“I’m fine,” he answered with general ennui before curling his legs up towards his chest.

She parted the branches, one foot out in the sunshine before she heard the sigh rumble from inside the tree. _He’s pouting like a child, sitting in a tree, huffing, waiting-_ Maka could only shake her head, offering a bitter smile inwardly. _Or, he’s hurting, he’s alone, and he expects he’ll always be left alone._ The veil of leaves fell again but Maka was still standing in the cool shadows, her glare on Soul still well-hidden in his hole. “I think someone once told me that, _‘the lettin’ it go, that you need someone else for.’_ ” Every attempt was made to mimic his voice, the drawl ridiculous with the pitch of her voice.

“Spittin’ my words back at me,” he muttered.

“I’m offering,” Maka answered back evenly, trying to keep from giving in to judgment on his stubbornness again. “If you need to say something.”

There was a resounding _thunk_ along with a whispered hisses of curses. 

“Soul?” she prodded.

His legs slid in the dirt, drawing fat lines with his heels.

She knelt at the end of his shoes, trying to catch his eyes that refused to move from the darkness. “Blake said you haven’t come out of your room since you were sick.” _Or, really, he made me realize that but…_

“Why’d he bother to bring it up?” His voice was another hollow murmur.

“Because tattling goes both ways?” Maka chuckled softly. “I know you told him. Apparently when it’s you, me, and Blake there’s no secrets. I mean, if you haven’t noticed, he has a pretty big mouth.”

A dry laugh echoed out of the knot.

“Is there a reason why you’re _in_ the tree?”

His voice trickled out with the roughness of gravel, “This used to be _my_ spot before Reggie was born.”

“In the tree?” Maka nudged his foot. “You’re kind of big for that.”

“Well, when I was a kid, yeah…” His smirk was slowly appearing from the hole. “When Viv-” his voice caught, trembling and his hand grasped at the feeble trunk. Some of it crumbled between his tensing fingers. 

“She was… important to you,” the dangerous prompt barely left her mouth. 

Another pathetic laugh rattled from him, sounding more like a painful groan than anything close to joyful. “Viv and Wes got married when I was twelve. She use’ta find me here- tryin’ to be a good sister-in-law, tryin’ to follow Mama’s orders.”

Maka inched closer, bypassing his feet and now settling by his knees. “What kind of orders?”

“Being a good housewife,” he snorted derisively. “Be one of the family- as if Mama, _Dad_ , or even Wes gave her the chance.”

Maka bit her lip to suppress the question, hoping the words would naturally renew from his mouth. A few desperate heartbeats of silence passed.

“She didn’t fit in,” there was an ache in those words that chilled her. “Wes wasn’t lookin’ to be a husband yet let alone treat her like a wife and then Mama was exactly as she is and _Dad_ doesn’t know the meanin’ of family let alone how to be part of one.” His legs shuffled again but not to pull in and hide but to fall askew in comfort, one knee up to afford his elbow to lean and the other nudging the side of the trunk. “That left me; as if a cranky preteen was much company.”

“If how cranky you are now as an adult is any indicator…” Maka tried to let as much sweet teasing drift into that as she could and the reward came as the closest thing to a real laugh he’d uttered since she’d arrived.

“I was just as cruel as the rest of ‘em in my own way,” the joy drifted away as he sighed until his ribs ached. “Wasn’t ‘til… she found me here once, and I could tell she’d been cryin’ and just wanderin’ around, probably lookin’ for a place to hide.”

“That’s all it took to convince you, huh?” Maka’s whisper came with a happy air, finally getting enough nerve to dip her head into the darkness to catch red eyes blinking back incredulously.

“That amuse you?” He was trying to spit a glob of venom, but when her smile didn’t dissipate he was left only with a miserable frown. “Fine. I guess- I guess I just got to protectin’ her after that. Mumblin’ along like some idiot guard dog. Even when Wes finally came around, Viv still made time for me. She still… actually _saw_ me.” The last bit tapered off with a struggling inhale. “But then- then there was Reggie. Shoulda known, right? First comes love, then comes marriage…” he let the song fall off with a sunken, painful laugh. “Or really, the order’s all wrong: Marriage, baby, love, and then nothin’ left for me.”

“Soul…” She reached for him, a tentative touch to his knee that found him jerking away.

“Don’t deserve any consolin’, Ms. Albarn,” he snapped before pulling in on himself again, legs disappearing into the darkness to press against his chest. “Acted like a child. Told Wes off every chance I got, never even set an eye on Reggie, damn well never spoke another word to _her_ except for…” The reverberation hit her almost as hard as the sound as his fist struck inside the trunk, rattling debris until he was sputtering and leaning forward out of the shadows. “Fuckin’ hell-” but his voice cut off quickly as the hands that had been clearing the mess from his hair chest and pants.

She watched him struggle through cleaning the debris, her amused grin starting at the boyish gruffness as he spewed curses under his breath. Without thinking, her hand reached out, gentle clearing some fragments from his hair while pulling his bangs from his face. “It makes sense, Soul.” He had expected some kind of pity to live in those words but instead they were laced with that know-it-all air as if she’d just picked it up from a book. “You were just a kid; hormonal, lonely, and… well, hurt. It was fair for you to feel hurt. Totally normal.”

He couldn’t decide if it was the tone or the touch that had tied his tongue but either way he sat there in shocked silence.

That softened her smile to dangerous levels, making his heart thump wildly in his chest. “I bet you had a little crush on her, didn’t you?”

Soul snorted, “Little crush is understatement, Ms. Albarn. Thought I loved her.” 

“I thought you said you’d never been in love?” That came painfully easy from her mouth and hearing it from her made that beast in his chest twist again.

“Corrected it, ‘member? _Not really_ ,” he murmured weakly. “How I felt about Viv… well, too selfish to be love, Ms. Albarn. Love is give and take, right? Didn’t do much of givin’.”

Maka shook her head slowly as her hand drifted over his hair again to pick out a scrap of bark. “You said you protected her-”

“Not enough,” he spat glumly. “Not nearly enough.” His hand reached up for hers, grabbing at the fingers just to move them away, to give them back to her so he didn’t have to feel the fire at those fingertips again. “And I think _that’s_ enough, Ms. Albarn.” Soul leaned forward, getting on his knees before catapulting to standing swiftly enough to make his head spin. He smacked a firm hand against the trunk again, feeling the ancient tree creak from the force.

A dull piece of metal fell, kicking up a puff of dirt.

“Did that fall out from inside the tree?” Maka reached into the space, dragging the oval on a fine chain. “A locket?”

“Your guess’s good as mine.” Soul watched her turn it over in her palm, a beautiful inquisitiveness gripping her features, a wonderful bit of excited awe giving her smile new life.

“It’s lovely,” Maka murmured. “A little dirty, but look at the filigree.” 

“Sure,” he muttered but his eyes weren’t on the locket but her face, searching along each dip of joy that he could see there. _None of that made you hate me? None of that made you disgusted? Or are you just too busy now- didn’t care at all about-?_

“This doesn’t get you off the hook,” she laughed softly before closing her fingers around the treasure to hide it in her palm. “Why don’t you come back to the house? This time I’ll make you some tea.”

He jammed his hands in his pockets, eyes dashing away desperately to find a leaf or branch to latch on to instead of that look on her face. “Do I have to keep talkin’?”

“No,” Maka jumped immediately to the answer almost as quickly as she got to her feet, invading the space close enough to him that her heat radiated towards him.

He lifted a sly eyebrow. “Think you could put some bourbon in that tea cup?”

Maka huffed before knocking her shoulder into his arm. “Come on, Soul.” She brushed away from him, opening back up to the sunshine that hit his eyes like needles.

Soul grunted before following her out, watching as the rays caught on her hair, creating a halo sheen that he couldn’t help but watch. “Don’t you think we should call for Reggie?”

“Do we need a chaperone?” Maka laughed but her face refused to turn over her shoulder, leaving an inquisitive itch in him to see it.

He took a few extra strides to catch up enough to catch the corner of her mouth working on a fizzling smile, making that giggle of hers feel like a lie. “He’ll be jealous…” Soul let creep from his mouth.

This brought the frown to its fullest as she turned it to him, “Don’t be mean.”

“Nah,” Soul cooed back. “Reggie’s in love with you, Ms. Albarn.”

She only offered him an incredulous eye roll.

“Trust me,” Soul laughed sharply. “He finds out that you and I had a little tea party without him…” he whistled long before continuing, “Probably give me hell later.”

“Sounds like a _you_ problem,” she shrugged flippantly before hurrying her steps.

Soul was just about to start a stride that would leave him running up her heels when he caught sight of Blake coming out of the back of Maka’s house. Instead, Soul slowed, giving her fair space and threatening his own exit. 

“Where you two been?” Blake crowed.

“Keeping tabs?” Maka chimed back but her feet stopped as she ceased hearing Soul’s footfalls. She turned just in time to see Soul showing his side rather than his front, feet now entirely unsure as they shuffled in the grass. “Where are you going?”

“I should get back,” Soul mumbled and kept on his trajectory, only stopping when she bounded after him and her hand grabbed at his elbow.

“Soul-”

“No big deal- you’re busy,” he muttered again as he pulled away from her and started solid steps forward.

Maka spun, pressing forward in her own quick strides. “Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Blake laughed.

“Then what did you say to him?”

Venom was flying at Blake’s face but all he did was yawn. “Nothin’.”

“Blake!” She huffed as she reached him on the back stoop, close enough now to send a hand that barely jostled him to his chest. “What did you say?” 

“ _Nothin’,_ ” he tried again but found it just as successful as the first. “I mean, other than he had to grow a fuckin’ pair and realize he’s not just hangin’ around you for Eggie.”

“Reggie,” Maka corrected with a roll of her eyes as she opened the backdoor, letting the screen slam into Blake along the way. He grunted before following her in. “And, yes, we’re friends.”

“ _Friends_ ,” Blake mimicked the flighty tone before settling into a seat at the table.

Maka was already trying to busy herself with the kettle and as she reached into the cabinet for the tea Blake’s snicker grated against her ears. “Do you have something to say?” She snapped as she turned back to him, hands digging into her hips.

“Uh, well,” Blake threw his hands behind his head as she leaned back in the chair. “You two are weird. I think that’s ‘bout it.”

Her frown deepened, not feeding off of the amusement that was gracing his features. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it means,” Blake shrugged. “Look, you’re the only girl he does the _Ms._ thing to. You’re the only _person_ that has his number for somethin’ other than business. And while he has a beer with me every now and then, sees Kilik once a month, he spends most of his wakin’ hours followin’ you and Eggie around.”

“He’s just…” Maka tried to wave her hand to compel some meaningful words but nothing came.

“Weird,” Blake finished easily for her. 

“He’s hurting,” she corrected with a little more gusto. “And, honestly, I thought for a second I was getting him out of his hole and then _you_ showed up and upset him.”

“Don’t blame me,” Blake shook his head for emphasis. “Like I said, all I did was tell him he had to make a decision about you. He’s not allowed to half-ass things with you, not on my watch.”

“That would _almost_ be endearing if it weren’t for the fact that I can take care of myself,” Maka muttered back. The kettle squealed, bringing her back to turn off the stove and renew the search for the right tea to ease all of this new irritation. “Do you want tea?”

“Nah,” Blake huffed. “And it’s not like I’m sayin’ you can’t.”

“That’s what it sounds like,” Maka hissed back over her shoulder as she grabbed the chamomile. _Even though, at this point, chewing and swallowing it probably wouldn’t even do me any good._ The strainer clanged into the cup before she tossed in the yellow flower buds and poured the water over it. After settling the kettle back in its spot she turned back, ready to yell while it seeped. “You need to be gentler with him.”

“Oh, he would _not_ like you sayin’ this,” Blake chuckled.

“Well, he’s not here to give his opinion.” Maka cradled her own elbows, trying to keep the uneasiness from drifting further than where it was settling in her stomach. “And I _mean_ it, Blake. I’m worried- it’s just this idiotic curse. He’s got it in his head that’s it real and-”

“It’s very real,” Blake interrupted. “Trust me. Even if there’s no actual magic involved, it’s in enough people’s heads that thinkin’ makes it reality.”

A desperately withering huff of air left her and she turned back to the tea, tossing away the strainer and grabbing the cup. She was fiddling with the idea as just as much as her lip until she sat, eyes locking with Blake’s. “I think I can help him.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. “You changin’ your major to psych?”

“No, it’s- Blake, I need you to believe me.” Maka clutched to the warmth of the cup, watching the wrinkle start in his forehead. “The sleepwalking… I think it’s something more than that.”

“Don’t start that shit about your mom again,” he groaned.

“It’s not that.” Maka wanted to drop her eyes to the liquid but there was never a way to escape Blake. His eyes always trapped you, that hard honesty forcing you to give the same. “What if the reason I walked to where Vivienne died or where Chi died was because they were trying to tell me something?”

Blake’s arms slowly crawled over his chest. “Is that a question or you sayin’?”

Maka nodded slowly, “I’m saying that I think what you interrupted the other night was Chi trying to show me her murder.”

“You talked to her?” Blake offered.

“No, but…” Maka dug nervous fingers into the table top, scratching away at invisible dirt. “I think I can, if I try. I think the first two times, the lake and then the woods- I just didn’t know how to do it right but if I-” She flattened her hand against the table with a slap. “Can you just be honest with me and tell me if you think I’m crazy?”

“Not crazy,” Blake shrugged. “Keep goin’. You think you learned how to do it right?”

“Not crazy?” Maka raised her eyebrows as she toed the line again.

Blake furrowed his. “Not crazy, just get to the point.”

“If I talk to my grandmother, I think I can.” 

“All your grandparents are dead.” It wasn’t a guess, and he wasn’t looking at her inquisitively, instead leaning forward to a sour frown towards her. “Which means you gotta talk to a dead lady to figure out how to talk to the dead. Sounds _super_ easy.”

“I didn’t say it was going to be,” Maka spat back. “I have her ring, which means I can talk to her. I think I can get her to show me things if I just ask for it.”

“Again, _super_ easy.” Blake dug his elbows into the table before letting one of his palms hold up his chin. “But that’s not what you’re talkin’ about when you’re talkin’ about helpin’ Soul. You want to talk to Viv, don’t you?”

Maka nodded weakly.

“And you think that’s gonna fix his problem?” Blake grimaced as he ground his chin into his hand.

She clutched to the idea, racing through the thoughts that plagued the back of her mind since Nana Rung’s. “Yes! If Viv can just tell me that Wes _didn’t_ murder her, that Soul had nothing to do with her death either-”

“Unless Wes or Soul _did_ ,” Blake grunted. “You think about that?”

Maka bit into her lip.

“What are you gonna do when you find out a truth that you know he doesn’t want to hear?” Blake pressed again as one of his hands slapped to the table. “How fucked do you think he’s gonna be when he finds out Wes pushed her under the water? Or- and I don’t know what the hell he thinks he did but- what if you tell him he was to blame? How do you think he’s going to take it?”

“I-” She stuttered on the thought as her chest tightened.

“You wanna fix it,” Blake sighed with the air of annoyance, “but I’m gonna say the same thing I said to him: If you don’t care, you don’t get to play hero.”

“Of course I care,” Maka spat back, trying to force the rage to take over the apprehension.

Blake rolled his eyes, “I’m not talkin’ Eggie. I’m not talkin’ just about him as a human. You say _‘friends’_ but you gotta be sure about that before you do whatever you’re talkin’ about.” Without taking another breath, a grin broke on Blake’s face. “But lemme hear the plan, just in case.”

* * *

In the pitch black with a thin, weak moon giving only vague shape to anything in the room, Soul’s nightstand suddenly lit like a beacon. Sleep was usually something that evaded him so his eyes were open, forced to adjust in blinking dismay to the illumination of his phone on the bedside table. It was entirely out of the ordinary, and for a moment he lay in still shock until it vibrated again, calling to him.

He picked up the phone, unlocked the screen and the torrent of text bubbles began to pop to life.

  
  


He snorted.

  
  


Any humor had drained from him as a breath caught in his lungs.

  
  


Soul watched, waited, anticipating another line that never came. The screen half dimmed before he tapped it with his thumb and then hit the message box. The keyboard popped up on the screen but he paused again, eyes flicking from her text to his thumb. Finally, he typed,

  
  


Her text instantly flashed back.

He lazily picked up his other hand, cradling the phone and starting with both thumbs. 

  
  


A grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

  
  



	23. Every Day

Maka looked up from her spot in the grass, letting the book slip from her lap as Soul approached her on the lawn. A victorious smile started to pull at the corners of her mouth as she noticed the absence of Reggie. _So he can listen,_ came to mind which forced her to place a hand to cover the laugh that wanted to accompany it. _Don't chase him off just as he's coming out._ The reminder was necessary to help her force her face back to just interest rather than amusement. _I want him to see more than just what could go wrong- when we're at our weakest._ "Hey!" Maka filled that with as much sunshine as she could.

He waved a hand as a smirk started to settle on his face. "Reggie'll be along in a bit. He's still stuck with Azusa."

Maka let him see her laugh as she shook her head. "I thought I told you we don't need a chaperone."

"Ah," He accompanied the sound with a hand rubbing at the base of his neck as he finally stopped in front of her, blocking the sun. " _Friends_ , right?"

"Right," Maka punctuated that roughly.

He continued to rub as his chin ducked closer to his chest, bringing his eyes to the ground rather than her. "'Bout that, Ms. Albarn…"

Maka sighed, "Friends usually call each other by their first names, too, Soul."

"Well, I can tell you that's not 'bout to change," he muttered under his breath. "But I…" She watched his eyes dart, catching her in his periphery only for a moment before swinging back to his feet. "Guess I want to explain myself a little. S'why I came over here before Reggie."

"OK…" Maka prompted as she lowered her head a bit, trying to catch his eyes.

"With Blake," his voice was trailing off into a murmur below her hearing so Maka reached out, grabbing his pant leg and giving it a tug. Red eyes studied the connection before finally looking at her.

"What about Blake?" Maka prompted.

"Jus'- I wasn't runnin' scared or anythin'..." The exasperation in his exhale was directed only at himself. "What I'm sayin' is that it's settled. He told me somethin' I had to think about and, well, I did."

Maka released him, finding comfort in the fact that his eyes didn't drop. "So you're not avoiding him?"

"No." Soul let his hand fall from his neck and shoved it back into his pocket. "Wasn't really in the first place jus'-"

"You know that not wanting to see someone is the definition of avoiding them," she muttered.

His grin slipped into a frown, "Alright, bookworm, thanks."

She sat under his hardening glare for a few beats of her heart, trying to level the feelings in her chest. _He came here to explain himself and I want… why do I need to hear more than that?_ She churned that in her guts for a few breaths before accepting it. "Are you feeling better?"

"Well, the pukin' usually only lasts a day or so…" Soul rolled his shoulders easily.

"You weren't at the tree because of the puking," Maka shot back frankly.

His lips tightened as his jaw flexed. He shifted on his feet before starting again, "Well, Ms. Albarn, it comes and goes."

She nodded and as he shuffled she patted the space next to her. "Sit down."

Soul did as ordered, hunkering down in the grass next to her. The breeze eased between the two of them: faraway sounds of Marie's voice in the distance and the insects that rustled around them dominated as Soul wished for the conversation to die. _Because I'll tell you, won't I? Since Reggie's right: your ears are somethin' different._

"Is it gone today at least?" She was using the same gentle voice he'd heard in her whispers to Reggie.

Something about it constricted in his chest, tugging him one way and then the other before he muttered, "Honestly?" He didn't know why he had to ask the question because as soon as he turned his head to look at her she was just blinking at him with utter patience. "Most days I dunno. Catches me when it wants to."

She hummed back some kind of understanding, letting the silence sit. It only existed for another few agonizing minutes before the little raven head popped from between the trees. "Ms. Albarn! Uncle!"

"Hello, Reggie!" Maka waved.

"Hey," Soul called out but waved his hand off, stopping Reggie in his tracks. "Get some flowers."

"Are we making crowns?" It was a shrill call of excitement that exploded from his mouth before the exhilaration spread across Reggie's face.

"Might as well," Soul called back. "Make sure you get more than jus' weeds."

"Reggie can make flower crowns?" Maka inquired as she brought an amused smile back to Soul.

"Not at all," Soul chuckled. "He gets the flowers and I make 'em. He hasn't quite got the hang of it yet, and he gets awful frustrated." He sat straight, stretching his fingers.

"You learned how to make them?" Maka's voice was mildly incredulous as she let her eyes play between the boy and the man, catching both the gathering and the preparation for work.

"'Course," Soul spat back. "When you have a five-year-old botherin' you to no end about makin' 'em because he saw 'em in a book, you learn. Either that or you go insane, so…"

"Ah, makes total sense," Maka laughed. "So are you actually any good at it?"

Soul sucked his teeth as he shook his head, "Ms. Albarn, how dare you doubt me. Reggie! Come on, I need to prove a thing or two to Ms. Albarn!"

Reggie followed orders as Maka dissolved into laughter. The boy returned with an armful, mostly garden parsnip and cup-plant, and dropped them in Soul's lap.

"Aw, Reggie, I told you no weeds," Soul grumbled.

"But I _like_ them," Reggie urged back.

" _But_ when you're makin' a lady a crown, you gotta do better than _weeds_ ," Soul urged back. "You want Ms. Albarn to wear weeds? Go out and get some more." He waved Reggie off and the little boy went again with deepening purpose.

"It's for me?" Maka balked but it was quickly overtaken with a bright smile as she leaned closer to watch his work.

"Who else is gonna wear a flower crown?" He muttered before only turning his head enough to catch her closeness. "You stealin' my air?"

"I want to see what you're doing," she complained, ignoring the distance. Her face was practically pressed to his as he started to knot the stems.

It felt like her breath was wafting over his cheek causing his fingers to start to fumble in the action. "Ms. Albarn…" he started and as he turned his head was met with those focused and now slightly annoyed eyes.

"Fine!" she huffed before settling back on her haunches. "But I want you to teach me."

"No," Soul drew out the vowel with amusement. "It's my talent, Ms. Albarn, not yours."

"But-"

"But nothin'," he chuckled as he tangled the last bit of flowers together. Without thinking he brought the crown high, planting it delicately on her head as he had done a million times for Reggie. As soon as his hands straightened it in her hair, fingering away a few flyaway locks, his eyes finally focused on her face. Her cheeks had suddenly flushed slightly pink, a bit of nervousness wobbling the edges of her smile. "Beautiful," he murmured without a second thought.

"Even if it's weeds?"

"Not entirely 'bout the flowers," he answered with only a little breath, forcing him to settle back and let his eyes roam until they caught sight of Reggie once again, his little form scurrying across the field.

Why she had allowed the silence to return he had no idea, feeling every ounce of time without her voice starting to grate at him. The space needed to be filled and he couldn't catch himself before he started, "You think about what'd it be like if all that- none of that all happened?" _Like I make any sense right now- talkin' about flowers and now talkin' about what we let drop off because we shouldn't be talkin' about it to begin with. As if she's gonna understand how much I want to erase it, take it all back, make it right because I ruined it! I-_

"No," Maka cut him off quickly with a dry laugh as if she'd been waiting for the circle to come back around. "There's really no point, right?"

"Dunno." Soul rolled his shoulders before leaning back and sinking his hands in the grass, focusing on Reggie who was starting on the return. "Guess I figure daydreamin' doesn't hurt."

"It does," Maka pressed back. "Not that I'm not guilty of it, but maybe…" She kept her eyes firmly ahead but leaned with him, her hand inching across the grass until her fingers had tumbled over his pinkie and then his ring finger. "Maybe we should concentrate on what we have now."

 _What do I have?_ He wanted so desperately to free that from his mouth but it stuck, instead a weak breath coming out in its place. Soul dared to look at her, catching green eyes tentatively falling to his, imploring in a way that felt so alien but necessary to him.

"Sorry," she murmured as she started to move her hand away but he caught it, trapping her entire hand under his just to keep it still. "I didn't mean to-"

"You takin' it back?" he whispered.

"No, but…" Maka shook her head softly as she looked down at her lap. "You make this face."

"I make a face?" his laugh was weak and short.

"Like it hurts you." Her voice held its own pain.

"No!" Reggie squealed as he ran over, dumping doll's daisies and blue-eyed grass in Soul's lap before reaching for the flower crown on Maka's head. "I wanted to give it to Ms. Albarn!"

Soul reached for him, grabbing the little boy before he drove right in Maka. "Bein' ridiculous. Come here." He wrestled with flailing arms as tiny hands pressed at his chest to be free. "I gave it to her because that one was _ugly_. I'll make a better one and you'll give it to her."

"It's not ugly!" Maka giggled as she fiddled with the angle of the flowers to get them into view.

"You're not helpin', Ms. Albarn,'' Soul grunted as he finally got Reggie to settle in his lap. "Listen here," he dipped his grumbling lips to Reggie's ear. "Go back towards the house, get some golden dewdrops, some'a those other purple flowers. I think those'll look nice." Soul quickly set Reggie back on his feet, pushing the reluctant little boy a step in the grass. "Take your poutin' over there. Get what I tol' you this time."

Reggie gave one fleeting glance to Maka before he stubbornly turned, tiny feet pounding off in the grass.

Soul collapsed back as he chuckled. "See, Ms. Albarn? _Jealousy_. Never saw him so green before."

Maka huffed as she pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on there as she watched Reggie disappear. _Do I mention it again? What was the point of bringing it up in the first place? And why… why does the way it makes him look make me want to just do it_ more _? It's like… I want to hold on to him because he's always just drifting._

Soul concentrated on the clouds, letting his eyes find her in his periphery. _She's chewin' over somethin'. Nah, not somethin'- my face, the way I probably look when I get touched because…_ "Not used to it."

"What?" Maka's gaze instantly fell to him as Soul stared at a smattering of clouds drifting past.

"Can't say I'm used to bein' touched, 'sides Reggie, that is. Just not somethin' we do." He tried to swallow but the words wouldn't go down, just drifting off his lips into the space between them as he slowly turned his head. "You like touchin' though. You've been free about it with Reggie."

Maka examined him, red eyes with a slightly furrowed brow hanging over them. _How do you_ not _do that? How is that not a part of every day? And how is it that you've adapted to Reggie, but when others try, you bristle? And am I even allowed to ask you?_ "I like it. Maybe… I guess some people might accuse me of liking it too much. Being close to people, it's comfortable- comfort _ing_." She worried over her lip for a moment.

Soul snickered at her, "Ms. Albarn, you got that same look Reggie always gets when he has a question. I can tell it's killin' you- go ahead an' ask."

The questions raced, pushing for supremacy on her tongue before she murmured with all the painful sweetness in the world, "Is it OK if I touch you?"

 _Yes,_ rushed instantly to mind and he tried to quell it, pull it apart into little pieces and hide it away. _Why do you- why do I want it? After Viv, why do I deserve it?_ "That's normal?"

"We're friends, so yes," Maka offered back quickly, her intensity with the word still hitting him with the same shock as seeing it on the screen.

His eyes trailed away as the same thoughts murmured incessantly in the back of his head. _Why do I want it? Why do I deserve it? And… how many times have I let it happen?_ There was no denying all the moments, and each one flooded back to his mind as his jaw tightened.

"That's the face," Maka said glumly.

Soul covered it quickly with his hand as a harsh breath rattled through his chest.

"It's fine, Soul- you can say 'no' and we'll-"

"That's not it," he grumbled as he wiped the hand over his face to settle on his neck. Maybe he wished it was the hand that was choking him but he knew better. "I don't want to say 'no,'" barely eked from his throat.

"But you don't want to say 'yes' either." There was no sullen pouting to it, not melancholy but instead a warmth that brought his eyes back to hers and created a conflicted tightness in his chest.

 _Why are you lookin' at me like you get it?_ Soul wanted to snap, and even though his brow furrowed he couldn't manage an ounce of rage behind the next sentence: "I just don't know."

"Alright," she exhaled softly as if she'd been holding her breath for an answer that somehow healed her. "I guess we'll figure it out each time." Her hand stretched out on the grass between them, palm up in offering. "But I'd like to try now."

"Why?" Embarrassment washed over his features, a warm glow of heat starting at his collar.

He watched her work it over in her mind again before letting out a sigh that unsettled her shoulders. "I don't like what you said- ' _not somethin' we do'_ \- and holding hands is comforting, so I'm trying to comfort you."

"And yourself," he tried not to make it a question but a little of the panic rose at the end as he let his hand hover over hers.

"Sure," Maka smiled. "I'll admit I'm being a little selfish, too."

Soul's breath shook like his hand, but he let it collapse on top of hers, her palm unearthly warm from the sun. That's what he tried to concentrate on: attributing every last bit of the swell inside of him to the world around them. It was the sunshine that was thawing him, the grass that was tickling and setting his nerves alight, and the breeze giving him goosebumps. It wasn't her, and it wasn't him, and it wasn't holding onto her hand in now comfortable silence.

She wriggled her fingers until they were intertwined with his as he caught a contented smile on her face. _Look at me like that,_ echoed again in his head.

As requested, her eyes turned, soft and shining. "Still OK?"

"S'fine," Soul murmured as he turned his gaze away from her, concentrating deeply into the grass to the other side.

"Oh, no," Maka started to giggle as her eyes went out across the field. "I think Reggie _might_ have gone a bit overboard." She was suddenly moving to her feet, stealing away all the warmth that he'd finally settled into. His body moved with hers partway, but he stayed seated to watch Maka briskly jog in Reggie's direction. The boy had picked far too many flowers and was leaving a trail of winecup behind him. "Reggie!" Maka called out in the middle of her laughter as she reached him.

Soul settled his chin on his knees, watching the two struggle to keep the assortment of blossoms from floating off in the wind. _Somehow she's perfect with him_ , he allowed his mind to murmur, the words pulling that residual feeling from his hand to his chest. _Somehow…_ he had to suck in air because for a dizzying moment, his heart turned over in his chest. _Somehow she manages me, too. How she does it…_ He tilted his head, letting the world fall askew as Maka and Reggie started on the return. He butterflied his legs just in time to receive the pile of flowers in his lap. "Little bit of overkill, Reggie."

"But all of these are pretty!"

Soul hummed out an affirmative as he started to twine stems together.

"Give me your crown, Ms. Albarn." Reggie was reaching up for her but Maka stood tall, staring down as she protectively fanned her fingers in front of the flowers on her head.

"And why would I do that? Soul gave this to me." A pout hit Reggie's lower lip again, and Maka barely controlled another round of giggles. "I'll wear both!"

"No," Reggie cried. "I want you to wear mine!"

"Reggie-" Soul started but watched as Maka firmly dropped to the little boy's level.

"Reggie," she picked up where Soul had left off but with a tone that was saturated in that motherly demand. "I care about you _and_ I care about Soul. I can't hurt _his_ feelings just to make yours feel better. Do you understand?"

"No," Reggie grumbled as he let searching fingers touch Maka's face.

She cupped them in her hands, letting them pat her cheek. "Do you want Soul to be sad?"

"No," Reggie repeated but with a growing softness.

"He worked hard to make this," Maka soothing was unwinding the wrinkle in Reggie's forehead. "So let's be fair."

Soul's eyes widened as Reggie turned away from Maka and moved towards him, not waiting for acknowledgment before throwing his arms around Soul's neck. "I'm sorry."

He patted a soft hand to the boy's back, pulling him closer so that Soul could abandon the flowers and scoop Reggie into his arms. "S'alright, Reggie." His eyes searched over Reggie's shoulder, finding Maka staring at the two of them with a gentle smile.

 _Sorry_ , she mouthed wordlessly.

He shook his head before releasing the boy and clearing the hair from that little face. "Jus' 'bout finished. Go give Ms. Albarn a hug to make it even and I'll be done." Soul dropped his head to his work after giving Reggie one last push. His fingers ached from the fine detail but he continued, listening to Reggie's soft chatter and Maka's sweet replies.

As he was tying up the end of the circlet, his mind finally strung together the thought he'd been cultivating along with the gift. _We've gotten used to her, that's what it is. For Reggie, it's like she's always been here, and for me-_ Soul blinked at his hands before focusing on her, feeling his stomach roll as she almost instantly met his eyes as if she'd been waiting for him to look. _I don't think I have a choice. Damn it, Ms. Albarn, I wish you would give me a fuckin' choice._ He let a withering sigh leave his lips as he put on a smile for her. _I don't want to hurt you._


End file.
